


dandelion wine - l.s

by SwanWrites



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alpha Harry, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Blood and Gore, Bottom Louis, Domestic Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Harry is a Little Shit, Hate to Love, Jealous Harry, Jealous Louis, M/M, Major Character Injury, Omega Louis, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Protective Harry, Protective Louis Tomlinson, Rich Louis, Rough Oral Sex, Slow Burn, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, zayn has a fake leg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2020-07-19 20:47:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 50,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19980274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwanWrites/pseuds/SwanWrites
Summary: Harry lost a piece of himself in the aftermath of the first World War. Louis is hired to help the previous soldier get by."War does that to a creature; tears you up, flesh and bone."A closed off Alpha, a determined Omega, and the country side of Galilee.©2019, SwanWrites





	1. SMOKE

**_ONE:_ ** _GALILEE, ENGLAND; 1921_

"And your cheeks grow a bright red,   
as if a thousand tulips are blooming   
on the inside of your mouth; like a child deprived and wanting."  
\- Demi Ev, _The Fireflies_

__

**—**

_three years after_  
_the_ _Great War_

**_YOU COULD STILL S_** ee the blood in the cracks of the sidewalks when the sun rose from the hills. That is the one thing Harry had knew for his entire life at Galilee.

Beneath the blue lake laid the graves of men, the glitterings of gold from the sun-whipped rays of light ate away at the wooden crosses of Catholic soldiers.

From time to time there would come canoes of widowed omegas huddled with their children, carrying bundles of flowers weighed down by stones and notes in bottles to sink into the body of water.

The poppy flowers surrounding the Galilee Inn all stood for the bodies that fell on the battlefield. Three-hundred and forty-six men, Harry recalled counting last. Three-hundred and forty-six.

There were twenty places left where his flower could have stood. But he was still breathing, still alive. Forced to gaze at how the crimson of the flowers devoured all the green wisps of grass.

Heavy olive eyes were trained on the smoke that came out in ribbons from the butt of the cigar. Harry takes in a deep drag, feeling the burn make its mark in the hollows of his cheeks.

He sits on the worn bed of the bay window, a bottle of liquor clutches in one hand as the other rests along the crook of his neck; pressing at the flesh numbly.

Beads of sweat roll down his bare chest like an overly saturated image of a forgotten constellation.

Harry bites down on the top of the scotch bottle and cracks the cap free, taking a deep swig as the free alcohol dribbles down the corner of his mouth.

The booze streams into the dip of his scar that reached down from the cushion of his bottom lip; lingering there for only a moment before falling down on to the Alpha's lap.

Harry smothered the flames of his cigar into the glistening liquor, hearing it crackle like wet telephone wires caught in a storm. Thick, black ash sank to the bottom, discoloring the pint whole.

The glass then waved as the frail door squeaked open like a mouse caught in its trap; only to be closed once more by the morning's hot breeze. Yet it was enough to take Harry out of his daze, forcing the man's eyes from the poppy flowers.

"One would _hope_ with the way technology is developing they'd invent an easier way to maneuver around," Harry hears Maggie say. the pregnant Omega lets out another huff, murmuring curses under her breath as she sets down a bucket of water from the front well at the Alpha's feet.

She was a slender woman who seemed to be pregnant every other spring. With two children of her own, motherhood never took a toll on her features. Chestnut-colored hair remained to be thick and long, always kept in a tight, low bun.

The final ghosts of smoke leave Harry's lips as he cups a hand into the bucket, running the cold water through his hair as well as his face; sighing softly at the cooling feeling dribble through his spine.

"You don't need technology, you just need to learn to sit and relax, my love." Thomas hums as he walks in with three more men carrying firewood, kissing his Omega's cheek as he tends to the furnace; his freckled face blending in with the brown of the material.

The wood blaze roared as it was fed more timber by the men, a certain wave of heat immediately breaking through the frigid draft from the final blows of February. The red tones of everyone's pale skin thaw into orange hues from the colored flares.

"You shouldn't be working yourself for me, Maggie," Harry spoke slow, his eyes opening heavy as the muscles below his thick, bruised skin shift as he stands. "You are with child, and it seems that you need to be reminded of this every now and then."

"It's no use, Harry," Thomas laughs at his Omega as she takes out fresh cotton bandages from her aid kit, "she won't listen to even her Alpha either."

"Oh for God's sake, you Alphas and your cursed entitlement," Maggie scowls, placing one hand on her hip before narrowing her eyes at Harry. "Anne didn't present me as your Godmother just so I couldn't wrap some wounds for my own nephew. Those nurses at war couldn't wrap a damned pig in a blanket correctly if their lives depended on it. Now, be still."

"You better listen to her lad, I heard a story from the city that these creatures can go into labor quicker if they get angry." Thomas murmurs indiscreetly to the Alpha, chuckling as his wife strikes him a glare.

Harry stands in front of the heat source, the sparks from the fire biting only slightly at his torso, soiled gauzes that he wore were dampened with ever-flowing blood.

The men in front of him bow their heads in respect as the bandages were removed, exposing the violent wounds bare.

"But I will say this, I hope the boy Gemma requested from the Asylum knows how to give you a shave," Maggie softens her voice as she wets a strip of cloth, cleaning the dried gore from the outline of the gashes; "I mean for goodness sakes Harry, what wooly mammoth are you trying to impress with this scruff?"

Harry finds himself smiling softly at the mention of his sister. She lived back in Birmingham, where the streets were flooded with communists and burned out gangs. Yet she always worried about her brother than her own self;

_"I know a boarding Asylum,"_ she once spoke over the telephone, _"they'll send an Alpha boy, one that's active and strong; to aid you to run Galilee while Maggie is healing. You have no say in this, no say at all. It will be done."_

_"A say is not what I need,"_ Harry murmured over the fizzle of white noise _, "I believe I need... I believe I need to taste war one last time before I can find the man I was."_

_"Take the help first, brother,"_ Gemma whispered in a melodious tone that faded out in the ends, _"and then take time to bind your wounds. It is not the war you need to taste, it's your humanity. And you'll find it, you always do."_

"No wooly mammoth, Aunt Mags, a _bison_ ," Niall grunts out a laugh as he enters the main living space, cheeks ruddy from the sharp winds that bit the spring air.

The beta holds a fistful of mint leaves, walking up to the Alpha to present them in the palm of his hand. "Your old Cat is back up the peach tree again, you know that?"

"You refuse to let me forget; leave her there, she'll come down when she feels needed," Harry bites down on a leaf, the crisp release of flavor burning at his tongue. "where's Danny?"

"Out in the garden, almost done the planting for the day," Niall informs, chowing down on some of the mints himself, moving them to one cheek before speaking to the Alpha again. "Zayn wanted to let you know we had a new check-in last night, a veteran, forty-four years of age; bloody case of panic disorder."

"Did Liam give the officer a room?" Harry questions grimly, tone changing in depth as Maggie tightens the bandages to secure the injuries.

"Yes sir, his name's Isaac Wibley. Agreed to group therapy too." The beta dips his head, throwing the Alpha a towel as his boss ran a wet palm through his face once more.

Harry nods once as he wipes the rough material down his neck, the sharpness of his jaw extending through his rugged skin. "Make sure he's settled in well. I'll be with him soon enough."

"And sweep all this wood chipping from the floor, Mr. Murphy should be arriving any second now with the new boy. I don't want them thinking we all run a pigpen establishment here." Maggie scolds at the men who were just about to light their cigars, staring them down until they begrudgingly pick up brooms and do what they're told.

"God bless your sister, Harry. I believe her hiring help for you will be the only way we can keep Aunt Mags from having a heat stroke," Niall comments, planting a kiss on the older Omega's temple before she could give the beta an infamous glare.

"Speaking of the hired boy, are you sure he isn't... ditzy?" Thomas raises a brow as an amused smile creeps to his lips, "he sent a very odd letter on how he would like his room done. Niall, please read it aloud. It's right on the mantle there."

TheBeta reaches towards the cream colored envelope. It was enclosed with a wax seal, a bright yellow color in the molding shape of what seemed to be a bumblebee.

Niall clears his throat, a small smile on his face as he reads the words: _"'To whomever it may concern, if you are able, please remove the curtains in order for the sun and moon's light to know they are invited inside; they often do get lonely. I do not think they have many friends.'_ "

The room howls with laughter, including Maggie giving out a small chuckle at the dramatics of the letter. Harry's eyebrows knit together slightly, leaning against the wall with a questioning gaze, looking at how the penmanship was in classic cursive and a spot of bold blue ink bleeding through the bottom of the parchment.

Before Niall folds the letter back again, he reads the signature with a hum, "Signed Louis William." The beta shakes out another snort of amusement, "The boy sounds to be mental, don't you think?"

"What a description. Are you sure Gemma hasn't chosen a poet? I haven't even been _proposed_ to that magically, let alone asked to remove some bloody _curtains_." Maggie sighed, giving Thomas a small narrowed-eye look.

"Don't be so rash, my dear. My proposal was romantic." The alpha lazily kissed his wife's temple, causing the Omega to scoff in endearment.

"Hiding a ring in a finger sandwich during supper is not romantic. Niall almost ate that damn diamond."

"I think you could still see my teeth marks in the diamond if I am to be honest." The Beta mumbled, picking up a broom himself and sweeping any excess dust or chippings from the wooden floor.

Harry tucks his loose cigar behind his ear, finding his sight lost in the crackling flames of the started fire. The heat embraced his scars, kissing the jagged edges. But the orange illuminance was unforgiving, shining brightly at the bandages; reminding the Alpha of who he is.

The slack sparks of an open fire always were something Harry had been a friend of. They'd seem to be the most disordered parts of such a collected force of energy, shooting in any direction they pleased but flowing away into a state of oblivion with just the blink-of-the-eye.

"Have you slept well tonight? I put the children to bed early so they wouldn't be a nuisance. God knows Arabella and Matthew would have wanted to mewl with your demon cat til the sun had risen." Maggie rested a hand on Harry's chest suddenly, causing the Alpha to wake from his trance. "Harry?"

"Pour the whiskey, Maggie," Harry murmured deeply, his voice just loud enough to be heard by the pregnant woman and just quiet for the hum of his timbre to stroke against his throat.

The Omega does as she told reluctantly, handing a filled glass to her Godson as she watched with a worried glance at how easily the Alpha swallowed down the liquid in an instant.

Harry hadn't slept. He spent the seconds by counting down how many cracks in the walls he could find. He passed the minutes by having the flame of his lighter graze under the pad of his thumb; seeing if he could still be burned, seeing if he was still breathing.

Harry lets the alcohol hit his tongue, burning hot as it throbbed down his throat. He runs his fingers through his hair, letting out a low sigh before Maggie's fingers gingerly graze over his cheek.

"Do you feel that?" She questions firmly, brown wideset eyes filling with concern.

"Not yesterday, not today," Harry answered with a low mutter, ignoring the gazes of worry coming at him from the men in the space as he places the tucked cigar into his mouth, leaning into the burning fire to light the top.

"Harry, we've talked about the drinking—" The Omega started, reaching out to the Alpha to lay a hand on his shoulder in pity.

"Don't," Harry captures Maggie's wrist softly but his voice remained as sharp and venomous. He ignored the pained look, his own eyes darkening as they looked away from the stares from the room, "I don't wish to ask again."

The woman bit her lip but nodded as he cautiously left the Alpha's grasp, crossing her arms as she offered one last glance before stepping back. Harry ignored her gaze, his eyes moving back to the sparks of loosened flame.

Harry knew how they watched him. He had known the looks of pity all too well, the way it devours all of their expressions and sucks them sour like a leech. He knows their worried whispers, and tired eyes begging for some sort of cry. Some sort of sign that tells them Harry needed their guidance.

There would never be a cry, and Harry had made sure of it. There would only be smoke and liquor.

"Have you made the bedding arrangements? The trip from London is long, I'm sure the boy would want to rest as soon as he arrives." Maggie questions both Niall and Thomas, the men nodding in quiet response.

"All set, Mags," Niall clears his throat, one ball of his cheek filled with mint leaves and chewing tobacco which caused his voice to come out in a deep struggle, "Finished it all half-past nine the night before."

Maggie gave a simple nod, fixing her gown and cupping her pregnant belly; eyebrows suddenly furrowing when there was then another sonance to be heard from outside the roof they all stood under.

The noise of small pattering feet then became apparent, a short shadow of a child hurrying over towards the window.

Arabella tapped on the glass, cheeks red and eyes of blue lit with a transparent sheet of pure, child-like excitement. The child breathed heavily, letting out a fit of joy once Maggie lifted the lower panel.

"Mama! There's an otter mobile outside!" The little girl exclaimed, pointing to the polished black Tin Lizzie parked in the front of Galilee's entrance.

" _Auto_ mobile, Arabella," Thomas cooed at his daughter, raising a brow, "Must be Mr. Murphy. Tell Danny to open the gates, now, dear."

Harry watched through narrow eyes the silver gates becoming ajar, painfully slow. The creak in the metal causing his neck to flinch at the aching sound, haunting his bones like a mockingbird's whistle.

The engine spat and sputtered, sounding like an old drunk drowning himself with whiskey at a bar. Thick, white gravel beneath its wheel crushed and provided enough friction for the vehicle to push forward one last time before it came to a halt midway on the dirt of the fields.

Then without a moment more to spare, out was Mr. Murphy. He was rather a lanky man, legs like stalks of sugar cane and a posh hat perched on the black gelled hair. His pale hands were veiled behind leather gloves, no matter the season.

Yet there seemed to be no other guest by his side. Only parcels of the post were occupying the Beta.

Harry opens the door to the main cabin, stepping outside without a stutter to his step despite his drinking; the rest of the room following his direction.

The Alpha stood and leaned down on the cooled bricks of the structure, watching Mr. Murphy trudge through the fields with a nervous smile.

"Ah! Maggie, always a pleasure," Murphy bows his head slightly, greeting the pregnant Omega first, "I brought some gifts for the soon-to-be alpha junior there. It's a bib!"

Stitched in a silky red were the embroidered words " **ALPHA** " with a contrasting cotton base. Maggie held it up with a raised brow,

"And if it is an omega?"

"Well," Murphy's eyes widened for a moment as he let out a nervous chuckle, "er, if you turn it around it makes an excellent tissue."

"Oh, how very... generous. Thank you." Maggie chuckled, folding the bib into the front pocket of her apron hesitantly.

Mr. Murphy then takes off his hat in respect, turning to the Alpha with another bow.

"Harry," the Beta spoke slow and cautious, "Galilee always has the charm to make a city man want to move down to the country. You've done a wonderful job, a lucky man you are!"

Niall whistles at the odd string of words, perhaps to hold in a deep howl of laughter.

"Lucky," Harry repeats amused with a humorless, low laugh, thumb grazing over the scar that was dragged from the corner of his lip towards his cheek. "You think I'm a lucky man, Mr. Murphy?"

Galilee was a place to be proud of. The large acres was covered with well-designed cabins while also being joined with a barn and other outbuildings. There were fruit trees lined in every corner and crops in the fields, but Galilee wasn't a place for men who were lucky. It was a place for the damned. The soldiers who never could make it back home even when they returned.

The posh man glances at how the Alpha's bare torso was littered with purple bruises and deepened wounds, his chest being bandaged by Maggie as they were speaking.

He returns his gaze towards Harry's eyes, his words fumbling with embarrassment.

"I, well," Murphy clears his throat, nervously adjusting his collar as the men behind him laugh before continuing to dig. "No, sir. That is not what I had meant. I apologize for my lack of better words."

"Quiet, men," Harry calls out from behind him towards the snickering field workers, yet a small glint of amusement still apparent on his grimace. His eyes return to the opulent man, "Is the Alpha boy not with you?"

"That is the very thing I wished to speak to you about," Mr. Murphy puts his hat back on, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "the boy is due to arrive any moment now. Something about making a prominent entrance on his own..."

Then with a small gulp, the Beta fumbled with his bow tie, chuckling nervously. "but there has been a small, heh, well, _minuscule_ miscommunication—"

"Miscommunication? How so?" Thomas butted in, dark eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

"Well, you see sir, the asylum Madame Gemma had reached out to misinterpreted the kind of help they thought she desired for you," Thomas watched Harry's unlit cigar hanging from his mouth, emerald eyes trained to his head. "They had thought for help to be more... _liberal_ in meaning."

"Do you mean a prostitute, Murphy?" One of the field workers, Oliver, calls out, causing all the other men to cackle along with him.

"Oh quiet! Misbehaved animals, you're purposefully making the poor man uncomfortable." Maggie warns the men, rolling her eyes at their snickering.

"No.. not a concubine, rather a—" Murphy tried to start, a finger circling his collar as he was interrupted once again by the sounds of hooves and clacks.

"Harry! There's a stagecoach that approached the gate. Should I let them in?" Danny yelled out from the front.

Harry then turned his head, hearing the children gasp and let out squeals of excitement as they saw the glint of polished wood.

It was one with two large horses in the front, both white and glimmering under the sun's light as if they were guarding God himself. A fattened man with a mustache as red as beets was perched on the front, holding whips and straps that tamed the animals.

The carriage itself was a polished black, while there was a thick, blue curtain shielding the windows that revealed any guest who may have been inside.

"Christ," Thomas muttered, "better let him in now, lad. I'll be damned if that wouldn't be the bloody King of Britain."

Harry has his own stare trained on the vehicle, giving a single hand motion that went inwards, signaling to Danny to allow the stagecoach inside.

"Mr. Styles, please know that this mistake could have not been overturned. It was far too late, I myself had just found out this very morning." Murphy quickly states as the horses strode inside, the Brother Whip heading towards the side of the car head to help open the door.

"What awful mistake could you have really made with such a simple task? It is just an Alpha boy after all, isn't it? Almost all of them can perform work around the fields and cooperate in management affairs." Niall questioned, watching the carriage shift in movement as if someone was going to exit any moment now.

"Well, I..." Murphy starts but then halts himself.

Harry stands beside the coach master when the plump man gets down, waiting for the door to open so he may aid with the luggage. He offers Mr. Murphy a glance, one as cold as it was indifferent.

"There is no time for recklessness, Murphy. If there is to be any mis-" Harry begins, but then the first wave of scent whipped through the air as the car door swings open.

Harry's voice then came to an abrupt stop, the words dying on the tip of his tongue in an instant as he felt his throat go dry.

"Oh god." Maggie finishes as the smell of deep red berries hit the March air like a whip to the sky. 

Out of the stagecoach was yellow leggings adorned with butterfly pins. Harry didn't even notice the red slippers at first, but as soon as the plastic flats hit the sanded ground with a small _plop_ , they became quite apparent all at once.

Everyone remained frozen as Murphy smiled anxiously and tight, watching how the scene unfolded in front of them all.

A boy, who could be no older than nineteen, came out with a large hat and smile that could split his face in half.

An Omega boy.

With his small feet fumbling slightly as he took the hand of the stagecoach master, aiding himself to be balanced, but failing so miserable to do so that he fell into Harry's chest.

"Oh goodness, sorry sir," His eyelashes fan the high cheekbones that could reach peaks of mountains, skin a deep tan like a child would earn after a day at the seaside; freckles speckled on a pixie small nose.

Harry felt the boy's body linger for a moment, the heat exiting from his skin in stamps of perfume; first a mellow honeydew, and then a sweet hibiscus.

His lips were light, like the petals of a flower with a dusting of pink; turning red immediately as a wet tongue swiped over them in one quick motion.

The boy slightly turned and briefly touched Harry's arm to level himself properly onto the ground; eyes of a siren sea gazing into a deep forest of willow wisps.

Harry remains silent, eyes never leaving the boy for a second; watching the Omega mimic his actions, lips parted and a small blush dusting over his tanned skin. The Alpha doesn't even try to hide his stare.

The boy gives a small smile as the corners of his lips turn upward, one that could be mistaken for shy if he hadn't been gazing directly into Harry's eyes.

Yet then, as if someone has whispered something into the boy's ear, he whipped his head and body forward to the crowd; immediately bowing his head in respect with a nervous smile.

"I do apologize for being so late, Mr. Murphy! I have been told many times that such technology of this age is highly praised, but my cursed automobile, my word," Blue Eyes furrows his eyebrows, reaching back into the stagecoach to get his luggage; a small trunk that had orange leather embellished with odd patterns as a cover, " _wicked_ , _godless_ automobile was nothing but trouble. She broke down twice and I had to push her for nearly two kilometers until I got her to work again!"

Harry's eyes widened only slightly at how many words had just flown out of the boy's small mouth. He had never heard an Omega speak so boldly, with their expressions remaining modest and soft.

Yet it was just like that, in one quick motion, for the Omega boy. He had gone from soft and clumsy to bubbly and swift. And all Harry could do was stand and _watch_.

It wasn't even a minute before every worker and resident who passed by stopped and stared at the Omega, watching how his blouse was quick to ride up and reveal the tight, yellow leggings some more; shocked by his carelessness. The swell of his derrière becoming more and more apparent with every thoughtless stretch and motion.

Harry noticed though how the boy paid no mind as his body's shape was displayed; ignoring all the obvious stares and gapes with a polite smile remaining planted onto his enthusiastic expression.

"But it was a grand thing for Elijah to be near! He had this stagecoach and came to my rescue. What luck! Thank you so much, sir, thank you very much indeed!" The boy smiles to reveal teeth as white as pearl, ignoring the hand Elijah held up for the Omega to shake; hugging the old man instead.

Even from where Harry was standing, it was clear that the boy couldn't be any taller than the Alpha's shoulders. His slippers had to bend as he stands on his toes to swing his arms around the man. The hem of his silk shirt dips down as it folds, revealing peeks of skin to show.

A velvet, hazy pink radiance renders behind him, causing the tanned skin to contrast in such a way that could only be depicted as a child's melted strawberry ice cream under a summer sun.

Harry crosses his arms, watching with darkened, curious eyes of how the Omega moved.

He was small, making all his movements seem swift and delicate; boxes labeled ' ** _SHOES_** ' and ' ** _BOOKS_** ' stacking up in his arms to hide his face completely.

His body swayed like a motion picture star, so full of life that you would think someone gave him a script and direction.

Mr. Murphy cleared his throat then, an attempt to call the boy to his attention but also awakening everyone from their daze.

The Alpha saw how the Omega blushed, standing up straighter as though to make himself seem more distinguished (as if the yellow leggings weren't enough).

"Goodness, where are my manners? Hello, I am Mister Tomlinson. Although I would rather much care for just Louis; two syllables are far easier than five!" Blue-Eyes greeted the line up of workers with a laugh, but it soon died down as he saw their awe-stricken expressions. "Um, the caretaker."

Harry then shut his eyes in realization, letting out a deep sigh as he stood with his cigar dropped to the ground. The rest of the workers seemed to also be in a swollen haze of bewilderment.

All of the wonderstruck melted away from his features as he felt a certain surge of disgruntlement.

"You're the boy commissioned from the Asylum?" Harry dared to break the silence with his questioning timbre, feeling himself unable to contain the words from sounding bitterly wrecked.

The eyes of his workers flickered from the Omega to Mr. Murphy, And then back to the Omega.

But it would have been an easier thing to query if the boy had not then turned suddenly and gave a full gaze towards Harry, his lips spreading apart a little when he does and his eyes widening.

They do not falter even in the slightest at the intensity leveling thick above his head. He gave a small, shy smile, blue eyes gazing inside the fog of green; the apples of tanned cheeks burning a deep red.

The sunbathed Omega remained silent for a moment, completely still from the off bitterness laced in Harry's voice; his face remaining soft as he finally speaks directly to the Alpha in a collected manner.

"Yes, sir. I have my papers here somewhere," Louis nodded quick, opening up his leather pouch and searching with his tongue poking out his mouth in concentration. "oh, that's not it at all," the boy nervously giggles with a thin line between his brows when he takes out an empty tube of lipstick.

Louis then grasps three folded parchments in hand, delicately holding them out with a sheepish expression, one as timid as it was docile.

Thomas takes ahold of the papers, reading over them as they were stamped with an officiated seal. He nods towards Harry, confirming that the boy was legitimate.

"I'm sorry if my arrival was abrupt," Louis rubs the back of his neck as Thomas pockets his records, he chuckles a little forced as if he could feel the odd tension around the atmosphere. "I can promise I do not usually care for this much melodrama either."

"It is quite alright! We've been waiting for only some moments, getting your dorm ready took only a minuscule of our time here at Galilee. I'm Mrs. Trainor, but you will call me Maggie. I don't accept anything more." Maggie rushes in to say, attempting to break any strange stress, a motherly smile relaxing on her lips that seemed to be enough for Louis.

The Omega let out a small breath of relief as he took the hand of one of the first friendly figures he had met; he beams at the woman, flashing a smile. "I am very pleased to meet you. I hope to settle my room cost you no trouble, I tend to let my excitements get ahead of me."

"No trouble at all, we'd love to appreciate your time as much as we can at Galilee," Maggie began to reassure, "I spoke to you through letters. I have noticed that you've had a long travel."

"Oh yes, quite a long journey indeed. I battled with pirates and sea monsters to get here today, nearly took my left eye, ma'am." Louis hummed playfully with a wink as he noticed the two children hiding behind Maggie, giggling as they saw the Omega raise an eyebrow at them and hiding again.

Maggie smiles kindly at the boy, her brown eyes filling with warmth.

"I'm sure you're very tired and would like to be settled in right away, yet I would like to introduce you to Mr. Sty--" Maggie starts to point the Omega's attention towards Harry, but just as she does, the Alpha is met with an immediate beam.

"Styles!" The Omega exclaimed as if he had come to some wild conclusion. The boy then slapped his own forehead in slight embarrassment, blushing red as his outburst caused everyone to stare harder than they had before.

Before Harry had even the chance to show any response, his voice became stuck again when he felt the glassy blue eyes study him for a moment.

Louis had instantly stepped closer, unashamed by how he had the looks of everyone judging his obscene appearance and now leaning into an unfamiliar alpha he had never been acquainted with before.

" _God_ , It is very lovely to meet you, finally," Louis widened his eyes, taking ahold of Harry's hand and shaking it so vigorously with a wide, toothy smile. "I have been told by so many all around the country of your boarding house, even had the honor to see one in a photograph!"

Maggie looked up nervously at Harry as was everyone behind the two as if they were waiting for the Alpha to snap or crack into a cold state.

Yet all the man could do was stand and stare down at the Omega, his large hand still remaining enveloped in the Omega's small, ecstatic fists, watching Mr. Tomlinson flutter over his own words with bright eyes.

"But I must confess it's much more beautiful in person. Everything is, truly." Louis gives Harry's hand a small squeeze as if they had known each other all their lives, finally letting go of the Alpha with slight hesitation.

When Harry didn't reply and remained to look down at the Omega with such unreadable eyes, the boy looked at how the crowd of people around him was doing the same but with their mouths agape.

Louis realizes then how silent it truly was, only the deep breathing of the horses from the stagecoach to be apparent in the air; Harry's stone cold expression becoming even colder by the second.

Luckily Murphy was the first to move, reaching into the back of the carriage to grab ahold of some baggage and valises, but Louis was relieved to finally quickly speak out.

"Oh no, Mr. Murphy, I will be fine carrying that on my own. My luggage is quite light but I know all the knicks and knacks to keep those old leather things from falling apart."

The posh man gives an understanding nod, turning to Harry in an instant with the dismissal, worriment alive in his drooping eyes.

"Very well, erm, do we need to discuss some... arrangments?" Murphy says to Harry slowly, his tone turning more stern and awkward as Louis' wide blue eyes were still trained on the man with excitement and wonder.

"Carry on to the lodge," Harry spoke out firmly, his timbre lowering. The Alpha turned away from the Omega and continued to feel the boy's stare. Harry ignores it, clenching his jaw as he looks out to his men in the fields and gates, "the rest of you will go back to work."

The Alpha catches how the boy furrows his eyebrows slightly, following the group and struggling to keep up by Harry's side.

The Omega lets out a small pant and pushes back his hair, plastering in her another smile as he catches up with the Alpha.

"I do apologize for my lateness once again, Mr. Styles! I often do not care for tardiness either, but this one could not be helped. I had just seen the most marvelous cherry blossoms growing right left of the eastside train station!" Louis felt comfortable enough to speak once more, ignoring the hushed murmurs of those around him and directly into the eyes of Harry.

Harry spares him an indifferent look, dipping down his chin slightly to watch how the Omega had wide eyes filled with wonderment as he continues his story.

"My plan was that if my automobile wouldn't work, I would climb up the largest one and stayed there for the remainder of the night. How remarkable a time that would be?" When the others said nothing, Louis' smile didn't fade but it seemed as if the boy couldn't feel the unusual tension around him anymore.

Harry had never heard Omegas speak so much to strange Alphas they had just met; but this boy was just rambling little nothings to Harry as if they were friends for years.

His eyes glowed and that smile, that damned smile didn't dim for a moment, beaming even if Harry had just given him a small nod.

Mr. Murphy nervously gave Louis a nod of his head, telling the boy to move along with him instead, putting a hand on the Omega's shoulder as if to hold him in place.

Yet even Harry could still feel blue eyes attached to his head, excited and curious.

"Ah! I almost forgot," Louis continued to walk and broke away from Mr. Murphy's hold to touch shoulders with Harry again. "I brought scones. I didn't know what flavor you liked so I bought them all. There must be one in the shape of a star, I believe—"

"I- er- I'll set that somewhere safe for him, Louis." Maggie chuckled softly, the energy the boy gave off making her weary. She takes the wrapped treats the boy held in his hands, Thomas opening the door of the house for her and the rest as they entered inside.

"Thank you," Louis bows his head slightly in respect, smiling at Maggie with truly kind eyes and genuine gratefulness leading his tone.

Harry watches how the Omega's voice had then come down to a hush as he looked all over the main cabin in awe.

His lips were parted once more, eyes sparkling under the candlelight from the old chandelier that hung above the boy's head.

For a moment, Harry allowed himself to watch the Omega like this. Quiet. Wonderstruck. The Alpha felt his chest stir at the sight.

Louis then sets his suitcases down on the wooden floor, grinning contently as the boards creaked lightly. The Omega returns his sights onto Harry with a shy glance.

"Mr. Murphy tells me you had founded Galilee originally for the soldiers who were still dealing with troubles from war," the boy gestures to the framed photographs of uniformed men on the walls, "That's quite impressive, very impressive. I don't think I have ever heard a better reason for something so marvelous."

Harry nodded once, moving his bottle of morning whisky from the front table, watching how the boy's eyes followed the liquor with furrowed brows. "I wouldn't call it impressive,"

"Then what would you call it, Mr. Styles?" Louis' voice was low now, weighed down by not only genuine curiosity but his eyes followed the way Harry's lips connected to the bottle, taking a swift swig without even grimacing at the bitter alcoholic taste.

The Alpha uses his thumb to wipe the stray droplet leaking down from the corner of his mouth before answering with a solemn expression. "Instinct, integrity."

Louis' eyes then glimmer as if Harry had just given him the light of a thousand stars. The Omega's softness starts off slow before it takes up his entire voice, "I think that's a grand reason enough then, Mr. Styles."

The Alpha ignored the small pulling in his stomach as he sees how he caused the corners off Louis' eyes to crinkle in such a vibrant and distinctive manner. The feeling remained warm in his chest, burning deep.

Louis seemed to be grateful that Harry finally gave the time to respond, his whole face lighting up bright, "And I also hope you don't think any less of me because of my awful delay. I am--" The boy stumbled slightly while trying to meet the Alpha's eyes, "Heh, I am hardworking, passionate, and resolute."

Mr. Murphy then walks up to Harry, giving him a crane of his neck to the side, signaling for a side conversation as he nervously eyes the Omega.

"Give us a moment, will you, Mr. Tomlinson?" Harry doesn't look at the boy while saying these words, simply walking past him as Murphy rubs the back of his neck, then crossing his arms.

"You can call me L-" The Omega starts with another grin, but then stills as Murphy gives him a small glare as Harry's expression grows exasperated. "yes, Mr. Styles, I apologize."

"I know what you may be thinking, Sir. But I assure you—" Murphy starts explaining, trying to keep his voice down in a hush as Louis was only four feet away from the 'private' conversation.

"He is an Omega," Harry interrupts and shakes his head slightly, not bothering to keep quiet. "There has been a mistake. We needed an Alpha for work. They sent the wrong boy."

Louis felt his whole body's stop then, the flush color of excitement leaving his face for a hurt paleness. The boy furrowed his brows, grabbing onto his own wrist and holding it tight.

"The asylum had to narrow down their options. There were more Omegas with the skills than Alphas. This boy knows the expectations and meets many of the requirements." Murphy argues, trying to ignore how Louis' eyes remain on Harry with a sad hardness, close to glassy.

"I don't need a caretaker, Murphy. An Omega would mean that I do. We need another hand for field work and storing, an Alpha." Harry shut the man down bitterly, head pounding with a certain drunkness in the way he slurred his cruel words.

"You mustn't speak to Mr. Murphy as if he were my representative. He has no matter in this arrangement," Louis suddenly stomps up to the men, face red with both anger and embarrassment, all of the innocent happiness gone from his expression. "I have been sent here because I am good enough to be here. That is my simple answer for you, Mr. Styles."

Harry watches how the Omega balls his fists and stands his ground, unfazed by how the Alpha glares down at him, only mildly surprised at the boy's sudden outrage and courage.

"Do not speak unless you are spoken to, Omega. I need a worker, not someone to feed me by the spoon, you are aware of that?" Harry replies with an arrogant snarl, voice deepening and alerting everyone in the house of his hostility.

"Harry," Maggie warns warily, Thomas having his hands on his wife's shoulders to prevent her from disturbing the dispute.

"You don't want me," Louis crosses his arms as if he was holding himself together from pouncing on the drunkard _,_ "I know that. I may not look it but I'm stronger than any of your plowshares, or any of your alphas for that matter. Give me your fieldwork, I will do it ten times better than your men."

"I advise for you to come for a house position, something that fits your gender. My personal work isn't your--"

"With all due respect, Mr. Styles, I didn't come this far for your advice, I came for work." The Omega interrupts, holding out his hand in front of Harry's face to halt any further comment; he then walks away towards his suitcases and begins searching through his file.

And Harry doesn't _understand_ this boy. This was his lodge, his plot of land, and here is this stubborn Omega telling him to stop his discussions about a job?

And why the hell was the Alpha listening? He could tell Louis to not bother looking for whatever the boy was looking for, to tell him that he will be departing tonight with Mr. Murphy and that there is no place for him here in Galilee.

But all Harry could do was stand and glare at the hard headed Omega while everyone watched the pair with widened eyes in pure surprise.

Louis then stands with a paper in his hand, his demeanor already swinging from obliviously innocent to pridefully hotheaded and now, stubbornly determined.

"Madame Gemma-Elaine Styles has written this letter addressed to _me_ when choosing who will aid you, sir." The _sir_ rolled bitter of Louis' tongue as he gave the drunk Alpha in front of him the parchment, head held high even when Harry didn't bother to take a look at it.

Louis closes his eyes and exhales for a minute, as if he was trying to collect himself, he straightens his posture, blue eyes making contact with green as he steps forward.

The overbearing berry scent than becomes apparent once more. Harry's lips are still wet from the liquor and perhaps that's the reason why the Omega's eyes flicker down at them before he meets the Alpha's eyes again.

Harry didn't even notice that his back was to the wall, his bottle of whiskey in his hand as if it were God's own holy book.

With hooded eyes, Louis was staring down at Harry's occupied hands. The Omega wets his own lips, shaking his head slightly as he knots his eyebrows again, all bitterness melting away from his expression.

"Two months is all I'm asking, Mr. Styles, I can show you how I can plant, dig, even harvest. I won't let you down. And if I do," Louis bids towards the door, "I'll go on home."

Harry knew the Omega wouldn't be backing down, his body language screamed it. The boy rested his hands on the curves of his hips, his chin tipped up towards Harry as he _dares_ the Alpha to deny him.

Harry then sets down his liquor on the wooden table, eyes rimmed with red and droplets of whiskey laying gently on his scruff. He wipes away the wetness with the back of his hand, stepping towards the Omega.

Louis sucks in a sharp breath as he watches Harry grow closer, the deep scent of tobacco and a faded vanilla caressing the space between the two.

Mr. Tomlinson's eyes were slightly widened, blue eyes flashing an expression of a deep sea curiosity. His lips spread only enough for Harry to be able to see a flicker of pink tongue.

Harry studies the boy's face then, watching how Louis didn't even bother to back away, he stood his ground.

The Alpha reaches over the Omega's body then to tuck the letter his sister had written back into Louis' open suitcase. The boy only flinches softly when Harry's bare shoulder brushes against his own.

Yet before the Alpha pulls away completely, he stops at the small boy's ear, muttering something slightly with a vermillion timbre, yet not towards the Omega at all.

"Can he hold his weight with a shovel?" Harry aims at Mr. Murphy, acknowledging his presence in the room just so he could tear his eyes away from the deep blue rivers.

Before the nervous and jittery old Murphy could answer, Louis turns towards the damn alcoholic, staring directly into his bloodshot eyes with a slow simper. "I believe I can."

The two stayed like that for a moment then, head on head stubborn and unmoving, the heat of the flames in their hearts combating with one another, invisible smoke filling the room.

"Two months then," Harry nods, his own eyes darkening as the smell of berries digs deeper into his skin. He tears his eyes away from the Omega, his chest aching from the movement already,

"your time starts now."

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Email: swanwrites01@gmail.com


	2. LIQUOR

**_TWO:_** LIQUOR

_"The brain invents. Loneliness creates company as thirst creates water."_  
_—_ Margaret Atwood, _"The Year of the Flood,"_

__

**—**

_"Before the war," The man in white murmured to the circle, Kane, Harry had last remembered his name. "I could say I was a good man. I went to church, could you believe that?"_

_There was a slight pause for a moment, as Kane closed his eyes, head hanging down to the floor now; away from Harry's gaze. His breathing shook as he pulled on a fistful of his own blond hair, teeth grinding._

_"Going to church," Harry repeats, staring at the way the man avoids his gaze."is that what you believe only made you a good man?"_

_Kane sat back, his hands now loosening the grip on his hair; the corners of his mouth almost twitching._

_"I went to church with my daughter, sir. Abigail." Kane looked up, his voice different from before; lighter. "Her mother would sow her these puffed sleeves on her dress because she liked looking pretty, wanted to be like one of her dolls. And God, she was pretty, the most beautiful girl. I told her that everyday."_

_The solider clasped his hands, Harry watched how he picked at the skin around his nails until blood prickled out; revealing red flesh. The man didn't even grimace, beginning to talk again with a lost smile._

_"I'd wear a tie, and Ada, my wife, would wear her only set of pearls." Kane put a hand on his chest as he stared at nothing."We weren't rich folk, sir. We barely made it out alive during the harsh winters. But damn, when it came down to Sunday mass, we were the richest of them all."_

_Harry then heard it, the dry, choked-out sob that came from the pit of Kane's throat. It broke in echos through the vacant room, running chills down the Alpha's spine as he watched the fellow soldier break right in front of him, thick tears streaming down the deep lines in his face._

_"I don't go to church anymore, Styles. I don't remember the last time I spoke to god." Kane shook his head as he pulled at his hair once more until a brittle piece broke off. "I believe he died with me the moment I shot down my first man."_

_Harry could feel his own blood freeze, the pounding of his heart thundering in his ears._

_"I can't look at my daughter or Ada anymore, and they can't look at me." Kane lets out a shaky breath,"I was their hero, and now some nights I would wake up with my gun pressed against their throats."_

_The confession sounded as if a sinner was submitting to his pastor, wavering to even bring a fright to the devil._

_"Do they know, when in that moment," Harry keeps his voice low to a mutter, touching the soldier's hand to restrain him from further harming himself. "that you are having another one of your episodes?"_

_"No sir. They'd just cry and cry. I'd be crying too," Kane opens his mouth as if to let out another sob, but only trembling words came out."And I'd scream at them, telling them that if they moved I'd kill us all. I'd tell them that if they kept sobbing the Germans would find us."_

_Harry lets the soldier's body fall into his chest, allowing the man to let out weeps and clutch at the Alpha's shirt as he quivers as a man who had been stabbed in the heart._

_"When you look at yourself now, do you see the battlefield or do you see the church?" Harry whispered, the writhing body of Kane Sinclair violently pulsating as he barely spits out his next words._

_"I don't see anything, sir. All I see is blood on my hands, and it scares me to death,"_

_There's a pause._

_"And I no longer think I'm a good man, I am horrible. The worst kind."_

**—**

**_"HE SEEMS AWFULLY S_** mall..." were the first words that fell out of Liam's mouth as they all peeked out the window. "Murphy says you can't send him back?"

The group huddled together around the glass opening towards the front yards, watching with curious glances at how the new boy was still dressed as a noble French boy heading to a tea party.

He had already begun inspecting the grounds for any loose hazards to make it easier for the gardeners to plant tomorrow.

Yet Louis had only stood with his eyes widened, poking a bee hive with the end of a child's length shovel.

"Harry said his hostel would never take him back," Niall furrowed his eyebrows as he tilted his head to get a better look at the Omega. "he's surpassed the age of eighteen."

They all stifle their chuckles as Louis suddenly lets out a yelp as one worker bee crawled out of the hive, angrily chasing at the Omega.

"He's been at that weed for an hour," Maggie bit down a laugh, shaking her head as she returns to squeezing lemons into the jug, hand on her hip. "is someone gonna tell him that it's a rope...?"

Harry himself takes a look outside for only a moment, sighing when the boy is on the ground once more, feet against the peach tree and pulling tightly at the thick strings that were embedded into the dirt.

The boy already had dry soil around the ends of his colorful leggings and a streak along his cheek. Honey suckles hanging above his head and wild flowers underneath his feet.

Harry looks at how the sun's light beats down through the leaves, giving the boy streaked showers of illuminance. The light dripped to his neck, his lips speckled with gold.

His mouth was slightly open as his eyebrows were knitted together in pure frustration, body moving as if he were on a set to shoot a motion picture that would be premiered in a theater.

The Alpha forces his eyes to stare back down at the stacks of unopened letters in his hand, scrounging through as he ignores the constant groans and annoyed squeals of the brown haired Omega.

"Oh let him have at it, it's quite entertaining. Like a puppy with a chew toy." Niall hums.

"The children think he's royalty," Maggie chuckled when she watches her kids faces smooshed against the window's glass, "Arabella has never seen someone so dressed up. Especially for field work."

"Mama, can me and Matthew give Louis some lemonade?" Arabella asks with a filled pitcher already clutched in her hands and against her chest, careful not to drop the fresh juice.

"You should ask that question to Uncle Harry, darling."

"Me?" Harry furrowed his eyebrows as the children began giving him the puppy eyes, "And what for?"

"Well, you are the boy's keeper now, aren't you?" Maggie muses, bashfully slicing another lemon into half.

The whole room laughs as Harry stared with narrow eyes.

"He sees you as a friend," Liam assures, patting the Alpha's shoulder.

"Or perhaps maybe a babysitter." Niall snorts, causing everyone to bite down more laughter.

And then, as though on cue, through the window Louis had noticed all the eyes on him. He sets the shovel down and waves at the children, bright eyes and grinning as wide as he could for a more dramatic effect.

The kids then squeal and giggle, hiding behind the cotton curtains since the Omega had caught them staring, shushing each other as their skins flush red.

Louis sees the adults then as well, his eyes searching through the huddle until they stop upon Harry.

He tilts his head, giving the Alpha a more subtle wave with a softer smile resting on his lips.

Harry doesn't return the gesture, turning away and looking back to the letters in his hands in a swift reaction, watching as the Omega slowly drops his hand with a slanted frown from the corner of his eye.

"I believe our Harry has a new pet mouse." Maggie hums, raising a brow with the corner of her lip turned.

He ignores her.

—

**_LOUIS STARES HARD A_** t the multiple-colored glass bottles of medicine that clattered in front of him; each one plastered with names of ingredients that the boy could never even dream to pronounce.

Thomas Trainor had taken him to the front cabinets in a rather large storage closet; the shelves gleaming a polished brown even under the flickering light of the old bulb that hung above them. 

"You look intimidated, lad." Thomas said with a small smile lingering on his kind face, taking out a key from his belt to unlock the drawer in the middle shelf, shifting a few of the yellow labeled bottles to the front.

From a distance, it could have seemed as if a witch had left all her potions and elixirs in this space by mistake; and that the two were getting ready to make a brew in a cauldron pot.

But Louis didn't comment, just nervously chewing on the inside of his cheek as he nods his head slowly.

"I am intimidated, sir." The boy admits, much to his dismay, "It's.. it's a lot to remember."

The Alpha gave a reassuring shrug, "It's not hard, I promise you. Harry mostly knows what he needs and when he needs it. But it's difficult for him to face the fact that he has to take the medication. We tend to use this beaker here. Oryou can crush the tablets with this pestle and mortar, maybe put them into his drink or supper."

Louis' eyes only widen more, appearing even more flustered and bewildered than before. 

Thomas scratches the back of his neck, chuckling. "I believe I'll keep his routine short and easy for you then. It all might be overwhelming at first, but once you become in habit with it, it'll all be muscle memory from there on out. You've got the time table I've sent over to your room alright?"

Louis nods once more, leaning his head against the door frame for a moment but then following Thomas out to the kitchen as the man carried the medications in his arms.

"You have some experience with depressive clients, as you've claimed in your letters." The Alpha states, not really questioning the boy but speaking as if he was waiting for a confirmation of some sort.

"Yes. I- er, I mostly dealt with aggressive alcoholics, sir. And clients with seasonal affective disorder were much more common in New York. Especially around the colder months." Louis specifies, swaying the soles of his feet on his shoe heels in nervousness.

Thomas was then silent for a moment, setting the prescribed drugs on the marbled counter before he turns around, pulling on his bottom lip.

"What was your most... gruesome experience with a client if I may ask, Louis?"

The Omega felt himself tense slightly at the sudden question, laying his hand on his collarbones as he averts his eyes to the ground. He answers solemnly, low and sincere.

"I have had a patient before who had schizophrenic tendencies. She'd come in every now and then, blaming her mother for putting people inside of her head. I,"

Louis looks up and watches how Thomas's expression didn't change, he just stood with an unreadable focus in his eyes. "I didn't know how to help her. Every time she came in she was a whole new person. Her voice was different, her hair and clothes-- everything. Telling me a new name."

Louis shakes his head in guilt, ears growing hot.

"And I couldn't... she committed suicide later on. And I still never really knew who she was."

The room was flooded with an Omega's distress, lingering sharp and heavy. Thomas puts a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing slightly and only began speaking when Louis looked up at his face once again.

"Suicide is common, Louis, I want you to know that. While you are here at Galilee, it isn't a rare occurrence. It's our reality."

"I just don't," Louis stutters as he gazes back at the drugs. "I'm sorry, but I just don't understand why Mr. Styles would need all these pills... is he ill?"

Thomas purses his lips for a moment, before his jaw clenches and body lets out a deep sigh. The man runs a hand over his face before he pulled out a stool, from under the table; gesturing the Omega to sit, he obliges.

"I will only tell you this once, lad," Thomas murmurs, his voice now lower than it was before, his lips set in a line. "Many soldiers who served the British army are addicted to the feeling of being violent,"

The Alpha pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration at the memory, professing himself to a wide-eyed Louis; who gripped the bottom of his chair, as if he knew what Thomas was about to say.

"Last summer we had found him paying men to try to break his bones down in pubs. He'd come back with knife cuts all over his body and blood on his hands," The man shakes his head and looks sick to his stomach, "blood that didn't belong to him."

Louis swallows hard, remembering the bandages that covered Harry's chest when they had met; the bruises and scars apparent.

"Manic depressive disorder," Thomas mumbles, "he's been treated-- still is, and he has been getting better. But," he huffs out a spineless laugh, desperation hiding behind it, "I don't want to see him like that ever again. Never."

Louis stands from his seat, posture set straight as he bows his head in respect; eyes hardened. 

"How do I make sure of it, sir?"

"I've written down everything you need to know about dosage and time in the folder I have given you. I am always around in the vineyards, if you need to ever reach me if you feel hesitant about something." The Alpha gestures to the blue binder Louis held tightly against his chest.

The omega frowns slightly, knitting his eyebrows together when he was unsatisfied with the answer that Thomas had given him. He picks at the plastic covering his binder, biting down on the cushion of his bottom lip. 

"You seem displeased. Is there something wrong?" Thomas asks with slight worry, as if he was concerned that the boy was going to back away from this job, too overwhelmed by it all. 

Louis curses internally at the way he knew panic was written all over his face; failing to hide any sign of pique. 

"Yes, sir, It's just that," Louis sighs, looking up with his blue eyes desperate. "Is there anything else I can do to make sure Mr. Styles is alright? Anything after the medicine?"

The Alpha in front of him was taken slightly aback at the boy's response. He had never heard someone being so disheartened of not having _enough_ to do. 

"It was written in your description that you are quite the story teller," Thomas hums, "perhaps you can keep him occupied with your accounts of your times in New York."

"Really? I don't think Mr. Styles seems to be the kind of person who enjoys someone as... chatty as I am." Louis says as he rubs his arm, looking down.

"Louis, you don't have to walk eggshells around him. I know my godson may come across as..." 

"Crabby?" Louis offers, serious.

Thomas laughs at that, throwing his head back, "That's one word for it," his eyes gleam, genuine, "but I can assure you, there is more under the surface than what meets the eye."

Then, as if the Alpha had known Louis for all his life, he pulls the Omega into a fatherly embrace, warm and kind.

The boy's eyes widen in surprise, tensing for a moment before he allows the corners of his lips to lift into a heartfelt smile, leaning into the hug.

"Take care of him for us, lad." Thomas mumbled, "for all of us."

"I will." Louis promises. 

And he had meant it.

**—**

**_THE LETTER THAT L_** aid upon Harry's desk was sealed with red wax, a lavender flower's stem embedded into the sealant that signified that it was sent by his sister.

Harry stares down at it, the pads of his thumbs brushing across the ink of the written address roughly until it had smudged; tainting the white envelope.

The Alpha tucks it under the heavy atlas, watching the message flatten under the heavy weight; the lavender stem following as well. 

His office was basked in grey and smelled of oak, splotches of spilled alcohol contrasting against the hard mahogany work surface. 

It was about to storm. That was the one thing that Harry was sure of.

The clouds looked as if they felt heavier today, their outline smearing through the sky like butter melting in a hot pan; painting in shades of grey that devour the blue.

The sunlight that always hit the hills from afar seemed to crawl back into a corner of its own; leaving long blades of grass to wave through the wind in a dim blue hue.

The Alpha would always notice the red birds of Galilee flying in unison with their wings spread; welcoming the wind to blanket over thick feathers of scarlet and carry them to safety in hollowed oak trees.

They seemed secure, always _safe_. Even when they inched slowly out of their nest, they were caught by their much larger mother; dragged back into the small burrow by force. Not daring her children to escape, to fly, even if that was what they were made to do.

Harry turns away from tainted window, cursing under his breath as he searches for a lighter to ignite the end of his cigar, but it had only been three hours into the afternoon until Harry had heard a faint knock on the door to his office.

From the time the Alpha had spent with his people in the Inn, he had recognized every knock without ever having to ask.

Maggie's knocks were timid and sharp, always worried that if Harry hadn't opened the door after her second knock the Alpha had fallen asleep without a meal, or left to town without letting her pack him unnecessarily large amounts of pork sandwiches.

Niall and Zayn would usually lazily flick the doorknob with their knuckles, muttering impatient and playful curses until they got the okay to enter.

Thomas and and the others were patient, giving two, slow strikes as they waited with their hands folded behind their backs; always bowing their heads in respect before they stood in front of the Alpha.

Yet this knock was nothing like the others Harry had heard before.

It was soft, and in a small rhythm. If Harry had been turning a page or his pen were to be scratching on thick parchment, it could have been lost in the static of white noise.

But this knock lingered, as the thin scent of berries seeped under the gap of the door, floral and intoxicating.

Harry sighs, "Come in, Mr. Tomlinson."

The knob turns as the Omega enters with widened eyes, as if Harry had just performed some form of black magic right under his nose.

The boy wears a shy, kittenish smile, holding a small tray that consisted of a tall glass of water and tonic in a small, brown bottle sealed with a cork.

"Oh, heh, good afternoon, sir. Maggie said it was time for your medication?"

Harry nods his head, looking back at the paperwork disarranged in front of him as he picks up a pen and gestures to the vacant side of his desk, "Set it aside over there."

Louis obliges in a hurried instant, carefully positioning the tray beside where Harry had hid Gemma's letter. 

But when Harry didn't hear his door close, he looked up and saw that the Omega was still standing near where there was a bookshelf, gazing at him with a beam.

"Will you continue to stare until I drink the tonic, Mr. Tomlinson?" The obvious irritation in Harry's voice caused Louis to flinch slightly.

"Oh no, sir. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," The boy reassured quickly, caught, his cheeks blushing a bright red, nervously playing with bare collarbone. "I just... I just wanted to see if you'd allow me to give you an apology."

"An apology." Harry repeated, setting down his pen. 

"Yes," Louis nodded, pink slippers tapping against the hardwood floor as he bites the inside of his cheek. "I think we had started off on the wrong foot. I shouldn't have been so.. rude when you had told Mr. Murphy you didn't want me. I should've understood that you weren't expecting someone like me. I was disrespectful."

Harry's eyes then rake the Omega from head to toe, as if he were searching for some sort of insincerity hidden within jacket pockets or clasped hands. Louis' blush never left his face, and his ears seemed to grow only redder by the second.

When the Alpha said nothing, Louis seemed to take that as a sign to push more. He stepped closer to Harry's desk, scent lingering.

"Um, are you doing well, Mr. Styles?" Louis broke the prolonged silence, chewing the inside of his cheek nervously; a habit that didn't seem like it was going to break in the near future.

"Why would you ask so?" Harry questioned almost challengingly, jaw tightening.

The Omega's pink tongue swiped over his lips, leaving them pink and wet under the gleam of raindrops that poured loudly from outside the office window. 

"That liquor, I.. I recognize the smell of it." Louis' eyes leave Harry's for the first time since he had entered the room and onto the near-empty glass that was perched beside the Alpha's arm. "My previous husband would drink it as well."

This time the silence stung the room without any warning.

_Previous husband._ It was uncommon for an Omega to ever even consider leaving their spouse. It was shamed, looked down upon. Most couples in unhappy relationships would remain together, unable to bare the pain of separation. 

There were stories about how Omega's especially would not survive past the hurt if their Alphas had left them for another. The bond mark closing was extremely traumatic, each day taking out a disturbing amount of emotional energy.

It was like a dagger to the throat, pressing harder and harder against one's neck, always a swipe away from taking your life.

And that was when Harry looked at the ring finger of Louis' right hand, a thin line paler than the rest of the surrounding, tanned flesh; as if just recently a gold band had been lifted from the frail skin.

Harry flickers his gaze on to the Omega's neck, seeing that right below the boy's ear there was the sealed bond mark; light pink flesh growing over like a child's knee after it had healed from scrape. 

Louis notices Harry's eyes, then. He tried to subtly hide the scar with his fingertips, but his hand moved much too swiftly, showing immediate insecurity and fear. He swallows hard, eyes closing in humiliation.

There was a flurry in Harry's chest lost in a tangle of thorns at the way the boy's brightness suddenly fell. The Alpha smelled the Omega's discomfort; thick and heavy like raw honey.

"What I drink is none of your concern," This time Harry took it upon himself to be the first to speak, as if it were his way to clarify he was not holding any judgement towards Louis' confessed past.

This seemed to be the right decision, because the brightness returned to the Omega's expression, his skin somehow golden even in the grayest of atmospheres. 

Louis gulps, nodding feverishly as his fingertips slowly fall from the old bond mark on his neck, "I understand completely, sir, but it's just that my Alpha was never a, well, _nice_ man when he dran-"

"I am not your previous Alpha, Mr. Tomlinson."

"Of course," Louis' voice softened, no longer persistent, "I would never demean you as such."

They met each other's eyes once more after the words fell out of the boy's mouth. A marbled, iridescent gleam in their looks.

He wondered how an Omega as frail and delicate as the boy survived a divorce. His limbs resembled a silk doll, and skin seeming so soft even in the palest of light that it seemed if someone were to reach out and touch the boy he would bruise as a fresh fruit would under the hot summer sun.

But then when Louis glanced up at Harry through his thick eyelashes, and the deep sea blues burned their names into the Alpha's like a scratch in a bed post; he could feel the strength, the undeniable force, natural stability.

"If that is all, you may leave." Harry forced himself to dismiss the boy, tearing his stare away.

"Right. Yes," Louis' voice came out a whisper, disappointment lacing between his cherry lips. He bows and begins to head out the door, but stopping in his tracks as he sharply turns. "but, no. No sir, that is not all."

Before Harry even had the chance to question the Omega's performance, a light, melodic tinkling sound his heard as he reaches into the pocket of his jacket; taking out four metal measuring spoons looped around a hook. 

"I, um. The medicine. It should be taken in a teaspoon." 

Harry blinked.

"Let me understand this correctly, Mr. Tomlinson. You believe a teaspoon of medicine will improve the quality of my life?"

Louis freezes for a moment before answering, looking outstandingly embarrassed as he fumbled with the chain of eating utensils.

"Um, it was only for the absolute correct dosage. I didn't want you to take too much or too little," The boy adds the 'too little' part after a slight pause, as if it were an after thought of his.

"Or I will be horribly ill?" Harry's words were poison against his own tongue.

"There is a slight possibility, yes." The genuine concern in Louis' tone caused Harry to be only able to blink again.

The Alpha digs his fingernails into his knee above the surface of his trouser's thick fabric. He clenched his jaw as his fingertips went white.

"I want those wind chimes of yours in the bin, Mr. Tomlinson, I am not planning on committing suicide in my office by overdosing on liquid tablets." Harry bitterly retorted, eyes now darkened.

A red vexation takes over the Alpha's voice as he spits out the words ' _suicide_ ' so disdainfully cruel that it caused the Omega to wince.

"Right, Mr. Styles." Louis backs away, swallowing the lump that built in his throat, "I apologize."

Harry's eyes closed for a minute, hearing the clanking sound of the heavy silver material falling against the plastic of the bin. His skin was hot to the touch as the familiar odor of pity rose like a black cloud over his head; his nails dug into his skin, spite still stuck in his throat and refusing to be swallowed down.

Harry didn't dare to look at the boy this time to see if he had left. He kept his eyes staring at the humid haze; behind the fields of marigolds, faint sheets of lightening struck.

"Leave," He muttered, "go."

Louis turns on his heels in an instant, the clicking of those awfully bright slippers striking across the floor in a hurry. The steps suddenly came to a halt as the boy stops for a moment, glancing at the trash closer before he sighs himself.

The door shuts just as quickly as it is opened, leaving the fragrance of berries to devour at any liquor's pungent aroma.

And later, when Harry was stepping out of his office, he checks in the bin to see what caused the Omega to stop for that lingering second.

There, at the bottom of the trash bin:

Louis' baked scones laid under thick cigar ash and the glint of silver cutlery.

**—**

**_SOME WOULD FIND T_** he silence by the river comforting. The faint buzzing of the dragonflies, or the fragrance of sun whipped grass in the deep muddy banks.

Yet all Harry remembered was how quiet river water had felt in a Winter's night, before Christmas morning on 1916.

Cold, bloody.

The Alpha cups his hands, letting the water gather in his palms before splashing his face. The droplets fell down his neck, a constellation forming in the darkness of his beard.

The lake ripples at the movement, showing a distorted reflection of the man. The scars that trailed down his cheek seeming more haggard and sharp, his hair clinging to his neck and falling down his broad shoulders.

He watches the way the man staring back at him lifelessly trails his fingers down his bandaged chest, feeling the stiff cotton press underneath scraped palms.

He shields over his heart, closing his eyes as the setting sun beat a last peak of illuminance on his lashes, staying very still, not daring to move.

There was barely a beat, more of a muffled hum; like a distant roll of thunder that was lost beyond the mountains of a faraway village.

His heart stuttered under the shivering of crickets and droning of fireflies; letting out its own steady paces of low thrums, like a pendulum to a grandfather clock.

But Harry was still alive, still breathing; still beating.

Still beating.

Harry removes his hand, letting out an exhale as the cold air turned his breath into a ghostly smoke; as if someone blew out a candle that had been burning for hours.

The Alpha turns to his side and reaches into the linen sack he had brought along with him to the banks, hands wrapping around the thick stems of roses.

They browned slightly on the edge from being compressed warmly together in the cloth, yet flashed a crimson contrast when placed into pale, calloused hands of Harry.

The Alpha stands, murmuring a prayer before breaking the petals of the flower, throwing them into the lake as one would for the pathway of a bride on her wedding day.

He turns his back on the crosses of dead men that peaked through Galilee River, the moon's dim light now hiding the way petals of wilted flowers swam above the water.

"A war to end all wars," Harry mutters as he looks up at the rusting leaves of the towering willow trees. "May we meet again."

He clutches the sack and leaves it back into the narrow burrow, under the small gap between the bulbous roots and moss.

The walk back to Galilee Inn was always the easiest part of the trip. Harry's fingers twitch as they beg for a cigar to be twiddled in between them, and so does the itch in the back of his throat.

Bulbs of light flickered in the distance and Callie was back in the peach tree mewling, as if they were welcoming their owner back home.

Harry opens the gate with his silver key, rusted to make it seem copper to any man with eyes.

The Alpha sighs as the biting chill of the outdoors crawls out of his skin when the warmth of the main lodge seeps in. A deep cedar wood scent crackles in the fireplace, orange and yellow fire tinting the white walls.

"You're home," Zayn was the first to greet the Alpha, already carrying a bowl of broth with minced beef and carrots to place into Harry's hand. "It was Niall's turn to cook so I don't hope you mind too much of the inevitable food poisoning."

"Counting on it," Harry replies, voice still shivering as he drinks down a spoonful of the slow cooked broth. "It's empty tonight, quiet."

"Everyone headed down to the east wing kitchen for pints," Zayn tells him, putting on his own mittens as if he was just getting going himself. "seems to be the weather for beer now, eh?"

"We're all drunkards, fool, it's always beer weather here at Galilee." Harry taunts, Zayn letting out a huff of laughter in response.

"Yeah, yeah, but war and drink are the two things—"

"— that man is never poor to buy." Harry finishes as he raises an empty glass, letting a grinning Zayn pour old scotch into the space.

"Hell, if it wasn't the bullets it was the booze that got us through those bastard Germans."

"It was the booze," Harry confirmed with a humorless half smile, "bullets weren't the things that made it easier to pull the trigger, eh?"

Zayn had known the Great War all too well himself. One would might miss the way the man had walked with a slight falter, or the way the dark haired man cursed when he walked too swiftly past.

He had lost his leg after an infection spread throughout his entire limb, having either the choice to die or have the entire crus amputated to down to a stump. Forced into the mold of an anatomical figure, polished as if waiting to be worn.

Harry remembers the way his friend cried and howled in such naked pain; his hand holding onto the Alpha's as Harry held on tightly until his knuckles went white, the makeshift doctor they had on the fields pressing down on the gushing wound. The snow below them was red, everything was red.

_"Just fucking kill me," Zayn howled until he coughed blood from his endless screams, biting down on his own hand to muffle the broken sobs, "just put a bullet in my mouth and fucking kill me, Harry, please, Harry, Harry!"_

"Harry," Zayn put a hand on the Alpha's shoulder, raising a concerned brow when the man flinched aggressively, liquor spilling down to the floor.

He snapped back into reality, like a switch being flicked back on in the back of his head.

"Hey, okay?" Zayn mumbled, giving the man's shoulder a squeeze, "you left me there for a minute."

Harry didn't realize how long he had been staring at the ground for, watching the false foot of his comrade shift against the hardwood floor.

He hadn't even realized that his own hand was enclosed in a tight fist, fingernails pressing against his palm until they left their marks on the flesh.

"Fucks sake," Harry let's go of the tension, watching how spilled alcohol slips through the cracks of the floorboards. "what were you saying?"

Zayn gave the Alpha a short, reluctant glance. His eyes still open with worry, clenching his jaw by habit when Harry shook his hand off his shoulder.

"Oh, er, were there any more matte paper stocks in the village? Didn't see you coming with any bags." The beta questions, his lips attached to the remaining liquid left in the bottle.

Harry looks away from Zayn's eyes, "Roads were closed, still flooded down there from the storm," he lies.

Lies like these came easy to him, practiced. He had remembered the reactions of his staff when he had told them he'd spend most nights by Galilee River.

They all gave the man pitiful expression, treating the Alpha as if he were a sick man with open wounds scattered all over his body. Blood spilling on the floor, vulnerable and helpless.

It were better this way, to go to the river alone. To honor his old friends alone. To feel his heartbeat alone. Harry was still breathing, still alive.

"Those town folk got to learn how to open new pathways," Zayn criticized, setting his bottle down."I'm telling you, going horseback is what they call uncivilized. Few flash floods and they close down the whole damn road."

With a slight grimace, the beta stands straighter and leans against the frame of the front door, nodding his head.

"Come on now, Maggie'd be pissed if she didn't seen your face all day. After that, you're gonna shower, smell like a damn slaughterhouse."

"She's down in the kitchen as well?" Harry questions but obliges, letting the cold air hit at his body once again.

They walk around the gates of the garden before Zayn gave a small shrug, "Told you they all are. Thomas is making sure she doesn't drink though, I'm sure she's scowling like a pregnant woman scorned."

"Hell hath no fury," Harry murmurs, allowing the corner of his mouth to turn before they reach to east kitchen, the lingering scent of fresh bread and strawberry jam airing out when he door was swung open.

They entered and instantly there were crowds of people circling around where the large kitchen island was usually placed. There was no pint glasses of beer occupying anyone's hands.

Field and house workers were silent, the men who wore hats had them down from their head and against their chest in respect.

They hum beneath their breath to a familiar tune, as the women clapped their hands rhythmically and slow, taking a pause at every beat of a second.

Harry watches how from a distance the faint light of the kitchen hides a silhouette of a figure sitting on the large spread tabletop, swinging feet that could no longer touch the ground.

The workers smile with teeth, eyes glued on the figure. And before the Alpha had the slightest chance to question the odd silence, the silhouette sung out his first lines.

_"Dear face that holds so sweet a smile for me,_  
_Were you not mine, how dark the world would be, I know no light above that could replace,_  
_Love's radiant sunshine in your dear, dear face,"_

Harry felt his blood freeze as the lyrics echo throughout the room. Zayn seemed to understand why, the beta standing suddenly straight at the known words that were being strung out letter by letter.

The Alpha steps closer to the voice, his arms crossed as he feels a tugging in the pit of his chest, eyes growing dark as the song continues; the deep scent of berries whisking into the air.

_"Give me your smile, the love-light in your eyes. Life could not hold a fairer Paradise."_

The dim light of the kitchen then brings Louis into view, his tanned legs basking underneath the glow as the heated air surrounding him gave the boy's body a hazy halo; one that hugged up to the top of his feathered brown hair. His eyes remained closed, head swaying slow.

Harry shuts his own eyes, clenching his jaw as the boy continued the song. He felt the blood pumping through his veins before he could even begin to take another glance at the Omega.

_"Give me the right to love you all the while, My world for ever, the sunshine of your smile."_

The whole room then stills in that moment then, quickly beginning to notice the Alpha's entrance, their clapping and hums coming to a muffled pause.

It was then when the Omega opens his eyes, locking his deep sea blues with Harry's burning forest greens.

Louis stills himself, his mouth slightly open as if he was waiting for words to fall out but quickly bit down on his lip when he takes in Harry's cold, hostile glare.

"We haven't had the singing of that old tune in this house since the war." Thomas' voice suddenly spoke out from the opposite side of the boy, a smile taking up his face as his arms were enveloped around a wide-eyed Maggie, as if she understood what was to come.

"There's a reason for that," Harry's eyes stay dark, his voice deepened as his gaze doesn't leave Louis' for a moment, "get down. We don't sing here."

"Harry, he was only trying to--" Maggie began to speak at the boy's defense.

"Before you want to remember the old songs of war," Harry grabs Louis' wrist, forcing the Omega to look at him as he spoke, "you remember those whose bodies still lay rotting in the battlefield."

Louis' skin flushes red with embarrassment, instinctively wrapping his arms around himself before he nods with glassy eyes.

The Omega steps down quickly, swallowing hard.

"Yes, Mr. Styles," Louis tripped over his words, stuttering as he looked away from Harry's hard stare, "I'm very sorry sir, I didn't mean to be-"

But then door shut loud, causing all those in the kitchen to flinch including Louis.

Harry had already left.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Email: swanwrites01@gmail.com


	3. GHOSTS

**_THREE:_ ** _GHOSTS_

_"I gathered wild lilies and honeysuckle and_  
_a bleeding heart,"_  
—Patricia A. McKillip, _"Winter Rose"_

__

**—**

**_THERE ARE MANY M_** en who spend their whole life searching for a surge of high.

Something that makes your body feel as if it had slipped through the cracks of time itself, weightless amongst the stars and their moons.

The same high you feel when you dig a knife against the throat of your enemy, hearing their final scream turn into just a simple vibration of a whisper. The spray of their blood showering against your own lips.

A high that causes victory to seem like it will last forever. Always a golden euphoric triumph; bringing home medals upon medals, trophies upon trophies. Your name engraved in the shining slate.

These men search for it in alcohol, cough medicine, or morphine tablets.

But to Harry, he knew that this high was still alive in naked panic.

It lied awake in a racing heart in the dead of night, gnawing on his veins until his body forced himself up; pacing like a ghost around the perimeter of his room.

And Harry could still smell the high on his lips. He could feel it dripping down his neck as he pulled down the curtains that shielded his windows to the floor, the moon's light beating on his back as if it had the power of a thousand scorching suns.

"Fuck," Harry scratches down his throat, the air around him felt as though it were sucked by a limitless vacuum, his lungs on a blazing fire.

The ground beneath his feet seemed to tremble, his fingertips numb as if they were left out in a blizzard; frozen blue.

White noise was replaced with howling gunshots and icy winter wind, a sharp and stabbing pain gripping onto the middle of his chest mercilessly.

The hardwood floor is then blood-stained grass, the olive walls crumbling down to be towering trees with clouds of thick, grey smoke rising with flames.

Harry tumbles back, hand still wrapped around his neck as he clutches onto his bedpost, only for it to be morphed into a rifle.

"Get me out of here! They're going to fucking kill me!" The Alpha turned his head when he hears the sudden scream rush through his ears, sweat dribbling down his forehead as he runs towards it; only to face his the bedroom wall once again.

"They're going to fucking kill me," Harry allows his body to fall against his dresser, shattering the framed pictures as they mocked him by scattering towards his feet.

Harry closes his eyes shut until he sees the glitter of white and blue stars dancing around the darkness, holding onto his own arms until his tanned flesh turns pale.

He was weightless, traveling through the dimensions as the feather of a red bird. A warm buzz of doom ringing across his ears as a bumblebee would to a child in a summer field filled with magnolias.

"They're gone, they're gone," He murmurs, shaking his head as he takes in a shaky breath, swallowing hard.

The trees and smoke dissolved back into his closet, the rifle falling into nothingness. Shards of glass captured the moonlight; cold and meaningless.

His heartbeat slows as he wraps his arms around his body as if his flesh would fall apart into a pool of red if he let go.

"They're gone," Harry repeated with a low whisper,

and this time only to himself.

**—**

**_"HE ABSOLUTELY HATES M_** e," were the first words Louis had sighed into the candlestick telephone's mouthpiece, his back against the brick wall.

He sat with his elbows slumped against the desk stand, one hand lazily pressing at the earpiece. The wire wrapped around the Omega's delicate wrist, already carrying a vibration of the sound of his dear friend's chuckle.

The telephone room was not really quite what Thomas had prided itself to be. In all, the 'room' was as wide as a shed and as tall as an outhouse. There was no door, simply just a scatter of old wires and a single slate to hold it all together.

It sat in the far corner of the front yard where workers had already begun their morning harvests, giving the Omega a few stares as they walked on by.

Yet with the fifteen short minutes Louis was promised, the boy was determined to use them all efficiently. It would take some hours to ride to town in order to use a booth, and this was only ten steps away from his dorm.

"Oh now Lou, don't you think you are being a tad melodramatic?" The other voice came in a crackled timbre.

"Not melodramatic _enough_ , Mariella," Louis groans, "I am sure that if we weren't surrounded by so many witnesses, he would have me shot like a lame horse."

That couldn't be a more hysterical statement. Louis was sure that if Mr. Styles's looks could kill, he would have his throat slit without a second thought.

It became a thing for Louis to knock on Harry's office door with his daily medication, forced to stand beside his desk until the Alpha had taken the prescribed pills so Louis could check it off for the day.

Once he found himself softly smiling at Harry with pride when the man took the medicine down, then immediately dropping his grin when Harry gave him a short glare.

Louis would dress in bold colors of blues and yellows, trying to plaster on his largest smile every four o'clock hour as he greets the Alpha.

_"Good morning, Mr. Styles!"_

_"Ah! Happy Passover! I know you're not Jewish, heh, I don't know why I would then say that- I... um. Your medicine, sir."_

The Omega even read documents upon documents on the battles Harry had fought in an attempt to keep a conversation going, only to be shut down every time with a simple but cold;

_"You may leave now, Mr. Tomlinson."_

Or the classic, _"You are dismissed for the evening."_

"My _God_ ," Mariella gasps in disbelief with a laugh following it not far behind, "I retract my statement earlier. You're not melodramatic, you're _insane_ , Louis Tomlinson."

Louis frowns and his posture slumps in short defeat, sighing as he stares up at the chipping ceiling.

"It is as if I can do nothing to please him." The Omega slowly admits with no real bitterness behind his words, only a lingering sadness. "I smile from ear to ear and could even perform with a full ensemble of tap dancing pagan rituals and he will just stand and glare as if I had three bloody heads!"

Even that idea appealed to Louis in the tiniest fragment of thought. Perhaps maybe he could even get the Alpha to smile, he could use a smile.

"You know that those returning from war are... difficult," Mariella begins to reason, "And you've said it yourself that he has quite a temper."

Like a child, the Omega furrows his eyebrows and fumbles with his shirt collar, taking a deep breath away from the mouthpiece.

He knew all too well that even when one seemed close to Harry, he isolated himself in the farthest fragments of his mind. The Alpha's entire presence was a ghost town while everyone was knocking on his abandoned houses trying to get someone to answer.

Louis bites the inside of his cheek, relaxing his mouth against the mouthpiece once again as he mumbles, "I still do not understand why he must be such a delusional dolt."

Mariella lets out a howling laugh which causes the telephone's audio to break a bit at the sudden gust of sound ripping through her side of the call.

"Oh my, I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten how hard-headed you truly are."

Louis rolls his eyes playfully knowing that his Omega friend could not see him. He shifts his weight on the chair, eyes trained on a patch of grass, "Hard-headed but honest. Mr. Styles is a proper _bellend_."

Louis could then hear the smile forming on Mariella's lips, the Omega's face probably smug as she raises her voice in a sing-song manner.

"Hm, from your letters you dared to tell me he was handsome just a week ago."

Louis then chokes at that.

The Omega's cheeks instantly flush red and heat up as he widens his eyes, slapping a hand over his mouth as he flickers his eyes all throughout he telephone room to see if there was anyone passing by in the yard, immediately biting his lip to stifle another embarrassed groan.

"Please, let us not bring my naivety into this call or I shall hang up and submerge myself in a bath of my own shame." He mumbles as his ears grow hot.

Mariella only hums, and Louis knew that if she was right in front of him she'd have a dark brow raised at the Omega.

"So is he not handsome then, _Mr. Tomlinson_?" She mocks lightheartedly.

Again, another wave of embarrassment washed over Louis along with a slight stir in his chest. He slumps in his chair, "I absolutely _loathe_ when he calls me that."

Louis swallows thickly, watching how a bird flies past his view. He's quiet for a moment, tugging on his bottom lip as he shuffles his feet on the cemented ground. A blush creeps back onto his cheeks, itching closer to his throat.

And then finally, he hangs his head with a sigh to confess;

"And yes, he is handsome."

"Ah, there it is!" Mariella cheered.

Louis doesn't let her win that round that fast. He was quick to retaliate though, ignoring the way images of green eyes and thick stubble flash in his mind and causes the burn in his stomach to deepen.

" _But_ he is also rude, and a drunk, and an arrogant _, arrogant_ arsehole-"

A worker then passes by the telephone room and gives Louis a rather strange look, one with his mouth slightly slack and eyebrows raised, causing the Omega to immediately shut up.

"Heh, erm, good morning, sir!" Louis waves a hand, his face flushed both from mortification and his passionate analysis of his boss.

The worker nods hesitantly, shuffling away quicker when Louis doesn't stop waving his hand nervously like a mad man.

"Such bold words, hm, I believe I have no choice but to let you slide this one time." Mari's voice crackles through.

"You are right, you do not."

"But you are blushing right now, aren't you?"

"No."

"Liar."

A slow burn is resting on Louis' fingertips as he sighs softly, a shy smile resting against pink lips before he quiets down to a melancholic hush.

"Enough with Mr. Styles. Do tell me how it is back _home_ ," Louis whispered, clutching the mouthpiece tighter, "and don't you dare leave any detail behind or I surely will sail back and have your head."

Even though the thousands mile distance of land and sea separated him from the ender end of this call, he heard the faint buzzing of city noise; footsteps and shouting, honking and wheels squeaking.

"Tommy's been writing his second novel," Mariella's voice loses it's teasing edge and melts into a puddle of pride as she mentions her husband. "This time it's about the people he had met in France during the war. Been at the old bar all day and night working on it, the one across the laundromat."

Louis perks at that, eyes brightening, "That's amazing Mari, absolutely brilliant."

"It's been... difficult for him, having to write under a white man's name," Mariella lets out a disappointed exhale, sounding tired and disheartened, "no one bothers to buy from a black author, and he's always wanted his own title on the front cover."

Louis lowers his head, a frown settling on his expression, "I promise you things will change, there's been talk hasn't there?" The Omega tries to keep his tone stable, encouraging. "You told me before that Harlem was evolving into a community of its own."

"It is, but there's always just _talk_ ," Mariella reassured frantically, pausing a bit before cursing under her breath until she continued on, "they got us so damn trapped here. We're the lucky ones, Susie goes to church and school, some of the children here are sent off to work as help as soon as their eighth birthday."

There was another pause, and Louis was sure that he could almost feel the way Mari grazed a finger against her own mouthpiece from the other line; speaking again but with a thick layer of emotion underneath her timbre.

"Your money's helped an awful lot, Lou, we can't thank you enough."

"Not my money," Louis didn't hesitate for a moment as he shook his head, forgetting for a moment that his friend couldn't see him. "it's yours. It's always been yours. Without your help with the mills, my father wouldn't ever be able to keep it running past June."

"Still-"

"Still nothing," Louis cuts off, a sad smile tugging at his lips, "you lot are too close to your dreams to be held back by your doubts. Trust me on that."

There was a string of static noise, and for a moment Louis had thought that the line was cut short, ending the call. But he furrows his eyebrows when he hears the wave of motionless wash again, being more of distressed breathing than anything else.

"Mari, what is it?" Louis asked, concerned.

There was something that his Omega friend wasn't saying, an incomplete story of back home.

"It's... It's Max," Mariella whispered, voice getting lost in the wind chimes hang outside by the wrap-around porch of the main house. If Louis wasn't listening as if his life depended on it, he might have even missed the next words that caused his heart to drop. "he came back earlier Wednesday and asked about you, again."

The Omega feels the blood traveling in his veins thicken, his heart in his throat.

"What did you tell him, please, you didn't-" Louis felt small in his chair all of a sudden, feeling like a child who couldn't reach the ground.

"No, please don't worry. I didn't tell him where you are. But, fuck's sake, Lou.." The Omega lets out a shaky breath, "He showed up with a shotgun."

Cold washed over Louis' body, heartbeat now thrumming like church bells ringing. He darkens his gaze, feeling a wave of fear as if there was a shotgun shot in the dark.

"He hurt you," Louis could only croak out, "Mariella. Did he hurt you? Or Ruby?"

"Tommy scared him off, told him if he came back he'd have his head blown out. Calm down, Omega. Please, I didn't mean to worry you." Mariella tries to soothe, her own voice coming out raw and frightened.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for leaving you in such an awful position. I hate him, I hate him so much," Louis wavered off, eyes stinging with tears daring to appear through glassy eyes. "But I had to get out of the city, Mari. I had to--"

"I know, Louis. I know," This time the Omega sounded stronger, reassuring as she hushes the boy over the phone. "we are alright. He is gone, and you are safe."

Louis sets the mouthpiece away from his lips for a moment, rubbing his temples before pinching at the faded mark behind his ear. He closes his eyes, ashamed.

"I apologize for wasting another call with me crying," He tries to laugh but it comes out a hollow huff, "I know how hard it is for you to travel to the booths alone."

"We miss you so much here, Louis," Mariella murmured warmly, "I hope Galilee is treating you as you deserve. You deserve a home that takes care of you."

"Galilee isn't my home, M," The boy shakes his head, returning the warmth with a hum, "I miss you all in New York as well. I'll be back soon, I hope. One day."

"One day, then."

As Louis murmurs his goodbyes, it feels as if cinder blocks were removed from his back. The heavy weight of Max pulling him down as his hands still shook putting away the candlestick telephone.

And for the first time this morning, Louis stepped out the telephone room to study outside closer.

The humid heat that hazed over the fields kissed at the morning dew. Worker's hands were covered deep in rich soil as they planted the seeds of marigolds to keep away spring pests.

Freshly baked bread was basked in the yolk of brown eggs and cinnamon sugar, frying in the arms of butter until they reached a golden crust.

He breathes in the air, allowing the sunlight to seep into his skin until the burn from the heat matches the hot stir in his stomach. He walks back into the main house, already knowing which steps to avoid the squeaky creaks of the hardwood floor.

His room's door was left ajar, yellow light seeping out due to the fact that he had all fours drenched in the jaundiced-looking paint. He finds himself smiling at the atmosphere, sighing comfortably at how familiar it all seemed to him, the only piece of home he could bring to England.

He kicks his shoes off near the chipping brown dresser, falling headfirst into the feathered pillows as he stared up at the ceiling that was plastered with the residue of stickers. He was sure that before he came this room belonged to a child, remnants of a young, happy boy was scattered all over the place.

The Omega had found an overwhelming amount of stuffed animals in the closet, bunnies, and bears with blue fluff poking out through each stitch. There was still extra small gloves in one of the drawers, folded neatly and looking so pure that Louis didn't dare move a thing.

These were the times that Louis felt awfully lonely.

In the morning where he once woke by the sound of city traffic or terrible salesmen knocking on his door to sell all his neighbor's suit ties was comforting, was something he remembered.

But in the early mornings at Galilee, the workers started in the fields and barn. Maggie would be off in town for an appointment from the doctor while Thomas escorted her. Most of the soldier residents weren't to be disturbed until four o'clock in the afternoon.

And then there was Mr. Styles.

Louis wanted to groan into his pillows just thinking about practicing for how he would face the Alpha today.

Because the thing was, as much as Louis despised to admit, Mr. Styles was intimidating.

He was tall, much taller than the Omega himself that he would have to tip up his chin to only nervously stumble over his words. His lips were red, always hidden behind thick smoke of his cigar.

A thick stubble of hair covered the bottom half of his face, hiding his features which left him absolutely unreadable. Every now and then when Louis would deliver him his medication for the day, speckles of gold were apparent in the forest green eyes the Omega'd find himself staring into until he was permitted to leave.

It was frustrating because there were so many words Louis would love to speak to the Alpha, so many stories he would love to hear about. When he had arrived he could only see them as friends, the type to talk all afternoon long.

And yet Louis couldn't last in a room with Harry unless that meant for him to be slaughtered by the ringing silence and glares offered by his truly.

"Lou! You're up! Mama made sin man toast!"

The sound of Louis' mattress deflating slightly as pale, little feet jump at the white sheets startled the boy slightly, not even hearing the door open once as he was too lost in his own thoughts.

The Omega opens one eye, a playful smile already tugging on his lips as he sees strawberry blond curls tickling at his cheek and a pink mouth letting out mischievous giggles.

" _Cinnamon,_ Arabella, oh lord." Thomas sighed as he entered the room with a tray, setting it next to Louis' table-side as he captures his daughter in a hug, laughing at her squealing. He smiles down at Louis, "good morning, lad."

"Good morning," Louis furrowed his eyebrows, sitting straight with a slight frown, "you should have called for me, I could have prepared breakfast."

"Ah, it's alright. If there is one thing everyone knows here is that when a pregnant Maggie has her mindset on something, you should let that woman do it." The Alpha reassures, Louis gave him a lazy grin in return.

There was a tugging at the Omega's feet then, Louis turns his head to look at the smaller boy in front of him.

"Lou! Can we play hide and seek now! You promised." Matthew pouted.

"Of course we can, I think I'd have to get dressed properly first, I can't be running around to catch you in a nightgown, you're far too fast." Louis wiggles a toe causing the young boy to fall into a fit of giggles.

" _Ach_ , don't bother your playmate this early, you skunks. You haven't even eaten breakfast yet. You like syrup, Louis?" Thomas raised a brow as he held a pitcher of sorghum molasses in his hand over the stack of flapjacks.

Louis nods politely as he watches the rich treacle fall down in a golden waterfall, shifting the softened butter that sat in the middle of the pile. The omega then raises his head, tilting it to the side.

"Um sir," Louis rubs the back of his neck as he waited for Thomas' acknowledgment. "I was wondering if I could give Mr. Styles his post first? Liam had given me the letters yesterday afternoon and I didn't think it was a good time to really barge in before."

The omega gestures to the three large envelopes that sat underneath a vase full of dandelion flowers, looking back up at Thomas with hopeful eyes.

Thomas reaches for the letters then, sighing as he looks over the writing on the front of the sender, nodding his head slowly as he hands them to Louis.

"Harry headed to the barn this morning, he cannot be in his room. Though you could set it by his bay window just fine."

This causes the boy to widen his eyes, shaking his head slightly.

"Would—," Louis hesitates before he rubs the back of his neck, "wouldn't Mr. Styles mind? Me coming into his room, I mean."

Thomas then furrows his eyebrows, not missing the way Louis' eyes flicker to the floor nervously.

"Has he been alright to you lad?" The Alpha asks with genuine concern.

"Oh yes, sir," Louis forces out a chuckle, he allows himself to grimace when his naked feet touch the cold floor. "I think I'd call us friends, even."

God help the liars.

"That's good, very good that you're getting along well," Thomas remained oblivious, letting out what seemed to be a sigh of relief. "I don't believe our Harry would mind at all then."

"I'll give Uncle Harry his letters, Papa!" Arabella and Matthew say in unison, hugging their father's legs with bright eyes.

Thomas gathers his children into his arms, allowing the pups to squirm around with endless giggles as they pushed at his chest.

Louis feels his heart tug at the sight of the family, a soft smile edging on his mouth.

"No, I don't think you will. Both of you need a bath. You'll be alright, Lou?" The Alpha returns his attention towards the boy with just a flicker of worriment left in his expression, already edging towards the door.

Louis holds Harry's mail tightly against his chest as if it were a Bible, nodding timidly with a slight nervousness building in his chest. "Yessir, thank you again!"

And with those words uttered, Thomas leaves Louis alone to stare at the envelopes.

They were thick, with obvious card-stock inside the covers. Each one of them was sealed with bright purple wax that dribbled across the seams.

Louis bites his lip as he runs the pad of his thumb over the seal, reading the addressee's name written in a blot of blue ink.

_G.S.F_

"He's only a man, after all," Louis mutters to himself, letting out a sharp exhale of breath before wrapping a shawl around his shoulders, heading towards the hallway as he closes the door to his room. "I can do this."

He passed the kitchen going unnoticed with the loud laughter and the keen whistling of the kettles that boiled down tea leaves picked from the garden.

The crackle of the fireplace was a telltale sign that one of the master bedrooms were near, several doors lining in the front as the walls closed deeper into a narrow passage. Lampshade light oozed a hazy, yellow illuminance as glittering dust danced back in the foyer.

Next to Harry's office stood his room, the door shut and the onyx-brown color screaming that it unwelcomed any guests other than the owner.

Louis reached out with one finger, knuckle first; ready to knock as he would do always when it came down to Mr. Styles. Yet then he paused before his skin could touch the wood, remembering Thomas's words that Harry was off in the barn.

That was relieving, causing the Omega to let out a breath of relief he wasn't aware he was holding in.

Louis turns the knob, shocked that the space wasn't locked, the heavy door opening with just that simple movement.

Yet, without a second more to pass, Louis wished that the door had never opened at all because then he didn't have to see shards of broken glass scattered over the floor. The sun's light caused blinding glints and glares to be projected in all four walls of the room like a morning constellation.

Thick, velvet curtains were torn from the bottom like a feral animal had clawed through them. threads of red scattered like ashes of a dead man.

Louis widens his eyes with worry when he notices how Harry's dresser was crashed into the wall, splinters of timber diverged.

The thick scent of rum and tobacco swim through the room as if everything were underwater and Louis was standing behind an exhibit glass.

He swallowed hard, biting the inside of his cheek as he grips the letters so tightly in his hand that he hears the paper crinkle.

Louis noticed he hadn't moved an inch, not daring to enter because it seemed as if he were entering something sacred, something private. It was the same feeling one would get when passing a graveyard in the dark and sees fresh roses laying on a gravestone that was built that month of that year.

He fit his steps in the gaps of the glass, cursing at himself for leaving behind his slippers in his own room, cursing at himself for not being able to turn around and come back at a later time.

Louis halted his steps to look over his shoulder, finding no one even passing by in the halls. The Omega sighed, standing still as he meets the bed-frame of Harry's bed, near the nightstand.

The glow of Harry's oil lamp was smothered down, the glass cracked and a hazard. A flickering flame still danced on the wick. Louis reached out at the dial, turning it until the spark was extinguished into nothing but a stream of smoke.

The Omega sees how there was a dent in the right side of Harry's bed, the left remaining absolutely untouched. The comforter was ruffled as was the pillow, but it didn't seem slept in. If it were slept in, there would be a sign of warmth.

But there wasn't any warmth on the bed, only sharp cold edges.

Louis diverts his attention back onto the letter he had grasped in his hand, immediately setting them down on the stand as if they were made of hot, molten rock.

He turned his body, edging closer to the door to slip away from the devouring atmosphere of his boss's room, wishing he could close his eyes and act as if he didn't see anything since he had entered Harry's space.

Yet that is when Louis sees it. There, beneath the dresser's remains were shattered picture frames with glossy photographs trapped under.

The glints of the broken glass seemed to guide the way for the Omega as he makes his way through with his brows knitted together in awe and confusion.

Louis removes his shawl, sprawling it across the floor as if it were a picnic blanket beneath his knees so he could kneel down without fearing a splinter to pierce through his skin.

The boy reaches out hesitantly at the photographs, sliding them out of their rubble. The film feels heavy in his hands. He felt slightly intimidated by the rest of the room as he sat in the middle of the storm as if he were playing the role of the eye of the hurricane.

The first photo was of a grinning young man. He held up what Louis could only make out to be a cord, one large fish dangling at the end of the line. His head was covered by a helmet and uniform was of the British army.

Around the man was a whole other group of soldiers that had their mouths in O's and hands having all around as if they were celebrating the fine catch made by their comrade.

Louis smiles down at the memory, feeling his own heart swell at the fact that even someone who seemed as closed off as Harry had things he cherished, people he cared for deeply enough to hold onto for years.

The second photo was more straight forward but still hauntingly beautiful. It was a lone man who seemed to be older, deep black shadows of the ink seeping into the wrinkles of his skin. His uniform was lost in the haze of the campfire beneath his body.

The palms of his hands were reached out in front of the flames, eyes closed and he seemed at peace; taking in the heat as the snow around him thawed out thinner and thinner.

He was at peace, serene and if Louis were a fool he wouldn't even think that this was taken during a war. This was taken of a grandfather, who traveled to the mountains for a camping trip so he could lie underneath the gaze of the stars; alone with the moon.

There was writing on the back of the photograph in fading black ink. Louis looked closer until he made out the words,

**_'HUNGRY. WOULD TAKE BONES.'_ **

Louis grazes a thumb over the four words, biting the inside of his cheek bows his head in respect to the photo, feeling his heart sink.

The third and final photo was something that made Louis' stomach churn as he flinched at the sight.

It depicted tens of dozens of young men that laid deep in a trench, eyes wide open with their faces terrified. Each of them were stripped barefoot, streams of black flashing through the fabric of uniforms Louis knew was either blood or urine.

There was a red circle from a marker that Louis was sure Harry had drawn himself. It centered around a specific boy that could be no older than twenty. He had his knees against his chest and mouth open in a cry.

Hair rose on the nape of Louis' neck as he set the photos down against his shawl. The Omega swallowed hard, shaking his head as he wrapped his own arms around his body at the paralyzing images.

These were the men of war, the men that Harry considered family, Louis was sure of it.

With a shaking hand, Louis collected the photos in his hands, standing up from the mess surrounding him.

But at that exact moment, he felt his hips being grabbed to spin his entire body around and his back immediately pressed against the wall.

Louis lets out a hiss at the sudden strike, trying to move out of the position but wrists were pinned and being held over his head by just the thumbs of his attacker.

With the way his own body jolts, Louis is sure that if it weren't for the hands that steady his hips, his bare feet would be in shards of glass as of right now.

Harry's heavy body was pressed against his own, shirtless and his bare chest glistening with sweat. His jaw tightened and twitching, eyes completely dark.

His heated exhales brushed against Louis' cheekbones, and the Omega winced at how harsh, how angry, it fell upon his skin.

"What are you doing here?" He demands, never a question to begin with. His voice was raspy, eyes red and heavy, a clear sign that he had just smoked. Tobacco mixed with sweat and dripped like melted rock candy, the scent becoming so overwhelming, panicking.

Louis holds his own breath, unable to form out words as he flinches at the way Harry's eyes don't leave his, staring him down like a devil.

The Omega swallows, looking down before shaking his head at the sharp pain that ran through his wrists. He was sure there to be bruises, wild purples and blues not soon after dawn.

But Harry wasn't having that movement, he removes one hand to grab at Louis' chin, tipping it up so Louis has no choice but to meet with his dark eyes that were lined with black.

"I do not wish to ask you twice, Omega," He murmurs deep and gritty, his gaze not leaving even when he grips the back of Louis' neck, "answer me."

Louis' feet touched the ground, a gasp of relief as he felt his body become free of the vicious hold once the Alpha set him down.

But Harry still towered over him, both of his hands against the wall, trapping Louis' back against the chipping brown paint.

And this was the first time that Louis could see every scar that dug across Harry's chest, the daylight casting golden speckles of light to graze around the ripples of his muscles. He felt his heart tighten at the cuts alongside his waist, knowing the origin of the marks.

"I'm... I'm sorry, I came to deliver your post... I saw the mess. I-I... I wanted to help," Louis' own voice comes out defeated and raw, his arms hugging over his stomach in a defensive manner.

Harry's eyes tracked the movement, and Louis is only halfway through the motion before the Alpha catches his wrist with just his thumb and index finger wrapping around the flesh.

Louis bites back a whimper as Harry lifts up his hand to see the three photographs the boy held on to. The Omega feels his stomach stir at the betrayed face he sees Harry make, the darkness dropping from his eyes to become something more wounded, lost.

"Why do you have these?" Harry whispered gravelly, his timbre lower but so soft once he takes the film from Louis' hold.

If he weren't inches away from Harry's body, the Omega would take this moment to be in complete awe at this side of his boss. He had never seen Harry's pain being worn on the surface of his skin. He had never seen Harry's cold stature thaw down to someone so human. Only for a moment, this moment.

He was suddenly suffocated with the urge to rest a comforting hand on Harry's chest as the Alpha gazed down lost at the photographs, but pushes the thoughts in the back of his mind as he speaks out once more.

"It really is no trouble at all Mr. Styles, but I have frames in my room you could use, I think it would be healthy even... if you had an organized view of your family," Louis offers a soft smile, his voice faint.

But the smile drops immediately when Harry looks up once again to face Louis, the whites of his eyes turning a bloodshot red.

His lethal stare cut slits in Louis', full of pain and piercing hatred. All the humanity evaporated and struck down like lightning during a pitch-black night.

"Do you think these men are my family?" Harry's voice could cut glass, red tongue swiping across his bottom lip before his hand tightens around the photos until they were completely crumpled.

"I'm sorry?" Louis faltered at the violent tone, breath hitching in bewilderment.

"Do you," Harry grows closer, body knelt down to have their eyes locked together. "believe that these photographs are of my family?"

Before Louis even could get the chance to respond, Harry has a hand on his shoulder. The gesture would seem to be warm to any bystander who would've walked past the two, but it was cold and heavy and all the Omega wanted to do was shiver at the way the weight felt on his body.

Louis stands his ground, not daring to show any sign of weakness until Harry lifted the first photo up to his view. The young man with the fish on the line.

"Jeremiah Kernel," Harry murmurs, watching Louis gaze at the image. "One of our own. I had to be the one to put a bullet through his head because he couldn't stop screaming at the gunshots. He never ate that fish he caught in that photograph."

Louis feels ice thicken in his veins as his throat goes dry in realization.

These photos weren't of Harry's family, they were of his casualties.

The Alpha seemed to noticed understanding flush over the Omega at the way he gives the boy's shoulder a squeeze. Louis tried to hide his discomfort, but he knew it was written all over his face, and Harry read right through him.

Harry lets the photo drop to the ground, and Louis doesn't dare watch it hit the floor. The next image of the old man flashed through his sight once again.

"Hans Wilkes of the German army. I slit his neck at night while he bled out in front of his only brother, he was going to be a father soon." Harry tucked Louis' hair behind his ear as his words spat out so casually cruel.

The omega knew that he was now trembling, he could feel his knees shaking while a loose tear fell from his burning eyes.

"Stop, Mr. Styles, please," Louis mumbled, voice hoarse with emotion as he shook his head, trying not to let out a dry sob. "please, sir."

This display of sentiment didn't slow Harry down even for a moment, he only quiets the boy with his thumb petting over Louis' cheekbone. "Stay with me now, don't look away, Omega."

And Louis doesn't understand how someone's voice could be so comforting, so _calm_ , as they looked in the eyes of a dead man. It was the kind of voice that Alpha's used on their mates, or the king that mothers held for their children, assuring them that there is no monster under their bed.

Louis had to meet Harry's eyes, needing to see if there was any pity, any sympathy or regret. But all he found was his jaw tightened and a hollowed-out pain with a story untold when the next and final shot was in sight.

"Adam Smite," Harry speaks with sin on his lips, leaning in close to make his cruel confession as he gestures to the man in the red circle. "only eighteen. I had to make the decision to leave him behind in the trenches, with his leg infected, he would have never made it past the forests. The dogs got him before the Germans did."

Louis didn't try to hold in the sound of sadness that echoed in the back of his throat any longer. He couldn't help the sobs or the way his skin crawled in pure revulsion.

For a moment, Harry watches the Omega break down in front of him. Watches how small the boy looks now, trying to hold himself together as if he were about to burst.

Louis felt Harry reach out for him and he flinched away, his entire body instinctively screaming at him to flee. That didn't go unnoticed by the Alpha, instead, it seemed to have given him what he wanted all along.

Yet Harry still placed his hand around the base of Louis' neck and gave him a slight push forward, allowing the Omega's body to fall into his chest. He ran his fingers through the boy's hair, feeling Louis' tears against his skin.

"Their family sent me photographs of them only two months after the war," Harry says lowly in the Omega's ear, he swayed their bodies as Louis trembled in his hold. "they wanted me to carry their burden for the rest of my life. Do you think I want that framed?"

Louis lifted his head from the Alpha's chest, face tear-soaked and flushed red. "I-I'm sorry, I just wanted to help—"

Harry lets out a spineless, bitter laugh which had no humor behind it at all, "Don't you see? You can't fucking help." He pulls away completely, folding his arms as he steps back to gaze at Louis as if he were a painting in a museum. "Look at you, all wrecked over men you never knew. Men whose bodies you never felt, whose heartbeats you never heard come to a stop. You think someone as weak as you could ever _help_ me?"

It felt as if Harry had struck Louis across his cheek, hard and scarring. A red-hot flare of pain is ignited in his body as he stood there; feeling stripped down to nothing but a paper doll.

The Alpha shakes his head with a scoff, "You've never known them, Omega. You've never known pain."

Louis looked down at that, a few more unbound tears streaming down his cheeks as he shakes his head with his throat burning, "you're _wrong._ "

This seemed to snap something in Harry because he then has his rings touching at Louis' throat, the cold metal traveling down to towards the boy's collarbones as he shivers at the sensation. Harry stares at him as a snake would towards its prey; poisonous and deadly.

"I'm wrong?" A smile tugs at the corners of Harry's mouth and Louis knew it was meant to mock him, to make him feel ripped at every corner. "No one in this country has ever helped me, and you think you can Omega?"

"I can try sir—" Louis almost begged to reason through his rough and unconvincing timbre, trying to plead the Alpha to let him go free, let him prove himself.

"To hell with trying," Harry spat back, his hand now pressing against the boy's collarbone, cupping the hollowed valley. "I _tried_ to keep my religion in the trenches. I _tried_ to keep my promise to my family that I would never lose my faith. I _tried_ to tell myself I would never become a murderer, "

There was then a prolonged silence as soon as that final word fell. _Murderer_.

Louis could put a promise on how his heartbeat was surely louder than the echos of people in the dining hall, or the way Harry was now looking down at the floor, his chest exhaling out a shaky breath at his own profession.

_Murderer_.

The Alpha shook his head, moving apart from Louis until the boy feels his skin ache for the hold, beg for it to return.

"But soon you'll realize that trying is not enough. The devil rolls your fate on his dice before you ever even step foot on that battlefield." Harry seemed to be muttering more to himself now, not bothering to speak loud and clear, dominating and threatening.

His eyes meet Louis' once again, all the anguish fading away to a creature tired. Bitter.

"You'll be able to go to sleep at the end of the day and forget your hell, occupy your mind with the papers or conversations with those you love." He drops his gaze towards the photographs on the ground and Louis follows his movements. "But I'm still here. With the war, with these damned ghosts of mine."

Harry lets out a deep sigh, raw and stripped down to the bone. "Now I repeat, Mr. Tomlinson," Louis' vision is blurred as green eyes lock with his for the final time. "do you think someone like you could ever help someone like me?"

With a defeated voice, Louis swallows his pride. He pinches at the collarbone Harry had touched, shaking his head, trying to keep his tone far from sounding too broken.

"No, Mr. Styles." He could only whisper.

Harry nods blankly, looking away.

"Leave then," The Alpha muttered. "Go."

And without another word, Louis left.

**—**

**_THE ASHTRAY C_** rackled when Harry's cigar was smothered against the small heap of black cinder, causing Callie to mewl in the Alpha's lap, her eyes still staying shut.

Harry scratches behind the ginger cat's ear, tobacco tracing on her orange fur as he uses his free hand to raise his glass against his lips, drinking down the remaining scotch in a single swallow.

The main house rang with pure silence, the only sound to be heard was the buzzing of moths attacking at the oil lamps hung outside.

In the distance of the horizon, thunder rolled alongside heavy cumulonimbus clouds; the sun sunk down in Galilee lake, church bells silencing for the rest of the day.

Moonlight flooded the floors, swinging with the orange glow of the oven. Maggie curses as she takes out a scorching hot shepherd's pie— one filled with mutton meat, onions, potatoes, and peas.

The round table was silent, the children silently playing around with their food as they separated anything colored green at the far end of their plate; scraping their fork against the porcelain-like nails against a chalkboard.

Harry felt his ears twitch at that, jaw going slack. Thomas immediately seemed to take notice, throwing the Alpha an apologetic look before poking at his son's side softly.

"Matthew, enough. You're disturbing everyone," he warns, but just as the screeching of the fork ends; the silence rooted itself in deeper.

"I want to play outside, papa." The boy whined, frowning until Maggie tsked.

"It's far too dark outside for that, this is the hour witches come out, they eat bad little boys who don't listen to their parents." She warned.

Yet Matthew just shook his head, opening his mouth to speak but Thomas took that as an advantage to push a spoonful of peas in between his lips.

The young boy lets out a betrayed whine as his father snickers, chewing fast to swallow before he quickly spilled out his words. "Louis said witches are friends, they can tell futures!"

Maggie rubs her temples as Arabella nods her head, agreeing timidly with her eyes widened. "It's true! I'm going to be a pirate, Lou told me so!"

"Well, there goes that scare tactic." Niall chuckled, taking a small bite of peach cobbler as he watched Maggie narrow her eyes at her children.

Liam fed Arabella a piece of his chicken, humming as he takes advantage of the topic change.

"The new lad's been up in his dorm all day." he points out, the Beta's brown eyes flicker to Harry as if to indicate that his words were for the Alpha only.

Harry barely nods in acknowledgment, gripping the handle of his glass tightly; pouring out another wave of the crimson wine. His expression was unchanging, undecipherable.

"Why? Is he feeling poorly?" Maggie furrows her brows, hand on her hip with great concern.

"That's what he says," Thomas adds on while wiping away grease from the corner of Matthew's mouth, "haven't heard a squeak from him since morning."

"You sure about that, Thomas?" Niall lets out a chuckle, his Irish accent loud and light-hearted, "That lad being quiet is less likely than goat milking out liquor."

"He hasn't eaten," Zayn points out as he was still setting the table with deep china bowls, popping off the cork of a fresh bottle.

"Then he isn't hungry." When Harry's voice firmly rung out, the whole table was washed over with a surge of stillness. The playfulness came to a halt, instead, there was a new tension thickening the atmosphere.

Maggie crosses her arms, pushing at the discussion more. "He should be here."

The Alpha stares up at her with hooded eyes, setting down his glass sharply that causes the children to flinch. "If he doesn't wish to come, leave him be."

The Omega lets out an exasperated huff, tapping her foot down at the kitchen tiles with a hand over the swell of her pregnant stomach. "Oh for goodness _sakes_ Harry, would it kill you to show that boy a little _compassion?_ "

"Yes." Niall snorted, raising his hands in surrender immediately with widened eyes when Maggie shot him a glare.

"I am not his caretaker or his Alpha," Harry stated coldly, "he can either show to dinner as everyone else has or he can stay in his room to starve. That is his choice."

Thomas held his wife's hand, knitting together his brows at the indifferent tone of the Alpha's voice, clenching his jaw in bewilderment.

"Harry," Maggie relaxed under the touch, but her own pitch becoming sharp, "he won't come down unless you tell him to."

"Mags, just leave it-" Thomas began to say slow, his senses starting to notice how inflamed the argument was building up to be.

Yet Harry stood from his chair, the wood creaking against the floorboards causing Callie to jump from his lap and running out the door once again to scratch at the old peach tree.

He leaned against the grove framing of the dining table, lets out a sigh, running a hand over his stubbled cheek, giving Maggie an exasperated stare.

"Why?" He challengingly questions, nose flared as the burning liquor consumed his senses, making everything hazy and distorted.

"Because the boy looks up to you, that's why. From the very moment he came to Galilee." Maggie said with her head held high, her voice coming out as an echo into Harry's mind.

There was a buzzing ring reverberating through his chest as if someone had dropped a tin pot on the floor. The Alpha drops his gaze, tongue against his teeth.

"Now I want him downstairs this instant with a smile on his face, this Inn could use a bit of smiling every now and again." Maggie pointed up the stairs, giving Harry a piercing glare.

She comes closer when he doesn't respond, desperation clear in the whites of her eyes. The pregnant lets out a deep sigh, reaching out to cup Harry's cheek with a warm hand. " _Please_."

There was a numbness that Harry wore like a coat, feeling nothing but a deep blue carve into his veins. He stares into the hazel eyes of his godmother, taking in the scent of distress, of weariness.

Harry closes his own eyes for a moment, letting out an exhale that burns in his nose. He leans into the numbing feeling as if he were drifting in the cracks of the floorboards.

"Alright," he murmurs, voice as rough as split shells that scatter along the seashore. "alright."

Maggie lets out a sound of what seemed like relief, giving Harry's arm a squeeze as if to thank him. The Alpha brushes it off, not meeting her eyes, knowing how heavy with pride they'd be. He didn't need her pride or her thanks.

His hand wraps around the railing of the staircase, the steps making a muffled sound as his shoes hit at the thick timber. The sound of a crackling radio could be heard faintly, loud pops of static hurdling all over the second floor.

There was the ghost of light music tracing the gaps in the hinges of a wooden door. The hall was covered in colors of browns, deep maroons, and muted greys; yet this door was in a screaming yellow.

It was just pushed ajar, the glow of light blurring Harry's vision, a drunk spell casted on his vision. A frail body laid sprawled on the white bed, fleeced blankets piled over, tanned skin playing with the dial of a radio. 

Then there was the scent that came through.

It was first just a whisper, a sweet berry or summer honeysuckle that you could find in the lakeside groves. Yet then a rush of the damp fragrance of ambrosia struck like an arrow through a throat.

It soaked out the odor of scotch from Harry's flesh, his nerves. For a moment, it sobered his mind. It was as tantalizing as the drops of rain falling from a rose-leaf, but as powerful as the venom of its thorns.

There was a dazzling aurora around the silhouette of the Omega, and Harry didn't realize how long he was standing against the doorframe until the crackle of the radio hit again; taking him out of his trance.

Harry then grows closer to find the boy sitting with parchment in his lap, his legs and thighs bare as the pink silk.

The Alpha held his breath, using his knuckle to give the door a knock but failing since the small pressure caused to door to already go ajar.

Louis widened his eyes immediately at the sound, but it was when he noticed Harry that he pushed off the papers from his body, backing away until his back hit the headboard of the bed.

Harry doesn't enter, not stepping closer.

They stay like that for a minute, defensive and quiet.

The Omega only shifted when he noticed how his thighs were bare, close to revealing the swell of his derrière. His eyes grow wider at that, using the sheets of his bed to cover his body, Harry looks away when discomfort fills the room.

"Mr. Styles, I'm sorry for my appearance, I wasn't expecting anyone." Louis' voice comes out weak as if he weren't planning to speak for the rest of the day.

He clears his throat, knitting his eyebrows together when Harry doesn't respond. "Sir?"

The Alpha stares at the tanned skin where there were purple bruises wrapped around the Omega's wrists. They formed in the shape of Harry's fingers; thin gaps from his rings.

Louis seemed to notice where his eyes were drifting to because then the boy hid his hands under the comforter of his bed immediately. He looks down, face flushed from discomfort and shame.

Harry doesn't speak on it, ignoring the strain in his chest at the sight. He lowers his gaze.

"Dinner is ready, we've all been waiting for you for a while now." The Alpha spoke deep and coarse, slow and cautious.

This causes the Omega to look up, almost going dizzy with the sudden whiplash. "You've... you've been waiting for me?" Louis widens his eyes as if that is the most bizarre thing he had ever heard in his life.

Harry swallows at the shift in emotion, finding himself ease into this side of the boy. He nods slightly, "And the rest have as well. They have gotten used to your noise, they'd like you there."

"Would _you_ like me there, Mr. Styles?" Louis then asks with his tone untrusting, protective. His eyes were just as glassy blue even in the soft glow of an oil lamp.

Harry's head needs a moment to process at the boy's words. He stands straighter with difficulty as the alcohol sets into his throat. He bites back the rigidness in his timbre, giving a slight nod.

"Yes, I would." The lie tasted more bitter than the liquor.

But a slow grin crawled up on Louis' face, burning brighter than the yellow paint.

"Then I will be right down! Um—oh dear God, I should get dressed. I don't think I will make a good impression in just a nightgown. Will you save a plate for me, Mr. Styles?"

He stands, the sheets still wrapped around him, he steps closer to the Alpha, just enough that the carpet of his room and the hardwood of the hallway still separated their bodies.

And Harry didn't understand. He didn't understand how the Omega could clear the air by breathing in the smoke of what happened in the morning. He didn't understand how the Omega could stand there and look at him with a smile, with a glint of light in his eyes.

"I will," Harry found himself involuntarily murmuring as he searched the boy's face for any sign of fear, any panic. Nothing.

"Grand!" Louis' hand flinched forward as if he were going to reach out for the Alpha, but quickly retracted it with a slight blush. He murdered an apology, stepping away.

Slowly, Harry closes the door; watching how Louis' shadow fades away until the click of the hinges is the only confirmation he earns.

It takes Harry a minute to catch his breath, leaning his forehead against the door even after he had it shut. He didn't hear any shuffling on the other side, as if Louis were doing the same.

Grabbing the railing once more, Harry steps down with his head hanging low; steps wavering about as he reenters the dining room.

All eyes were trained on him, both nervous and wide with curiosity.

"Well?" Maggie was the first to ask, her tone antsy as she gripped the table highly strung.

"He's getting dressed," Harry answered back shortly to cut down any more conversation, letting the sour cherry wine hit the back of his throat.

"Was he naked?" Niall chirped, wincing when Maggie rolled up a newspaper to hit the beta's head with. "God, Mags, only joking."

Maggie slaps Niall with no real force, "Perverted fool." But she couldn't hide how pleased she truly was, it was written all over her face. "Zayn, do pass another glass, for the boy."

"Aye aye, captain." Zayn wipes down a crystalware, but from the corner of his eye gave Harry a confused stare.

The Alpha knew he was drunk, and Harry could feel it humming against his tongue; his eyes weighing his vision down. There was no euphoria behind it, no ecstatic bubbles of lightness.

He felt as if he had the weight of the sky tied around his ankles, a noose around his neck. The room spun with the earth, revolving around him until a fire burned in his lungs.

He dug his fingernails into his palm at every small sound that became apparent, the flesh of his plans becoming red and prickled out spots of vermillion.

He hid behind the wild locks of his hair that fell down to frame his face, jaw tightened.

And then, as though on cue, quick, small footsteps pattered down the stairs as everyone turned to look at Louis in blue.

His feet were together and fingers twidling at the tweed of his cardigan. For a moment, his golden skin was flushed in a light pink at the sudden attention that came from everyone in the room.

Harry feels the burning in his lungs even come to a stop when he sees how small the boy actually looks like this, how frail.

"Hello," Louis shyly greeted with his head bowing slightly, face reddening as all eyes were trained on him. "everything smells amazing, Maggie. I'm sorry for not being any good in the kitchen."

With joy now lit in her eyes, the pregnant Omega waves the boy off and ushers him away from the staircase and into the dining space.

She flicked Niall's head on the way as the Beta remained to gape at Louis. "Close your mouth, fool."

Louis giggles into the back of his hand, his body now under the glow of the overhead lights, basking under its illuminance.

"You feel okay now, Lou?" Thomas asks with a raised brow.

"Oh yes, a lot better now, thank you." His eyes drifted to Harry for a minute, his smile growing softer. He looks back at Maggie with his head tilted, gesturing towards the table, "May I?"

"Please, go right ahead." She motions Liam to hand him over a plate, forcing the boy to stack up on bread rolls, gravy, rice, and potatoes until he widened his eyes and assured the woman that he has had more than enough for the entire week.

"Aren't you going to sit, lad?" Thomas raised a brow towards the vacant seat in front of him.

"You want me to eat _with_ you all?" Louis bites down on his lip with wide eyes, especially looking at Harry as if he was asking for his permission specifically. His posture deflated when the Alpha didn't return anything at all.

"We wouldn't be asking you if we didn't," Liam laughed, making Louis baby blue eyes gleam as he beamed instantly, taking the seat next to Arabella, the child hugging his arm in excitement immediately. Matthew whined in jealousy.

"Where'd you come from, Louis? You sure don't seem to be of the English countryside." Zayn commented, sticking his fork into a thick slab of steak. He holds it up to his mouth but doesn't eat it quite yet, as if he was waiting for Louis to respond before taking any kind of action.

"No sir, not at all," Louis shook his head. "I'm from the city. I grew up in London, actually up until I moved to New York down in the colonies."

"New York?" Niall's eyebrows shoot up straight, taken aback for only a moment before an impressed gleam takes over his expression. "That's quite a trip. Doesn't your family miss you, boy?"

The Omega reddened a little, letting out what seemed to be an attempt at a light-hearted laugh but came to a weak huff of an exhale. No one noticed, Harry did.

He opens his mouth to answer before he peered down at his lap. The boy nervously tugs at his thumb, feeling not only the eyes of everyone in the table boring at the back of his head but also Harry's; causing him to still under the Alpha's gaze.

Luckily at that moment, Zayn interrupts once more, leaning back on his chair with a new wash of curiosity in his voice.

"The last name was Tomlinson, innit? I know your folks run a fine cotton mill, very wealthy people. How do they feel about you coming to an old place like Galilee?"

That was when something rang in Harry's bones, sudden realization carving over his mind. Tomlinson.

Louis then looks up, trying his best to plaster on a fresh smile as his own spoon touches at the now-cold mashed potatoes.

"I don't know, sir," The Omega shrugs slightly with a light laugh, he takes a short sip of his wine and gulped it as if it were liquid concrete. "I haven't spoken to them for quite some time, last Easter I would suppose."

Silence fell over the table as even Harry looked up at that. Louis gave a forced smile, laughing dryly at everyone's gaze on him. "What?"

"Don't tell me you ran away, lad," Thomas muttered through his lips, Maggie nodding frantically along.

"No sir," Louis shook his head, eyes looking down before murmuring the words, "I wouldn't ever run away. I just... left."

"Your father refused to serve in the war," Harry didn't even realize that it was his voice that spoke until he saw that all eyes moved onto him.

Louis swallows, rubbing the back of his neck, uncomfortable, "I..I know that."

"Not now Harry," Maggie warns, narrowing her eyes.

"No, let him talk," The Alpha said, raising his glass towards Louis with a faux look of interest on his face.

The Omega turns in his seat, giving Arabella a brief, weak smile before putting on a composed face; trying to show no falter.

"Yes, my father refused." Louis answered this time more firmly, taking a long sip of his water before setting his glass down shakily, "he didn't believe in it."

Harry rose his eyebrows, a humored huff falling from his lips as he mimicked the boy's actions, taking a sip from his flask. He wiped the corner of his mouth where liquid dribbled. "There was nothing to believe in, it happened. It all happened."

Zayn exchanges a glance with Liam, then with Thomas as Niall leans back into his seat. They were alert, cautious.

"I'm sure you're right sir, I cannot imagine how it horrifying everything was," Louis pauses, his stare going straight under Harry's skin. "But I respect my father's decision."

Their eyes lingered together, green and blue going into battle. Harry runs a hand through his hair, leaning in closer. Beads of sweat were lined alongside his jaw, a drunk smile hanging from his lips.

"Tell me, does cowardliness run in the family line, then?" Harry says indifferently, his grip tightening around his glass that there was a muffled crack to be heard within the crystalline lining.

"Harry, I think you've had enough to drink," Liam mumbles lowly as he sees a lump form in Louis' throat, the boy's fork dropping on his plate as his eyes remain open, glassy.

But as Liam grips the Alpha's shoulder, something snaps inside of Harry.

"No, no, Liam, don't fucking touch me!" Harry lets out a growl, pushing out of his chair with a fist slammed against the table, causing it to shake until his alcohol glass falls to the floor, breaking in a thousand pieces.

The children flinch harshly and let out cries as everyone stands at once, Thomas holding Arabella and Matthew in his arms while Niall rushed to Maggie's side. Zayn squeezed Liam's arm, holding the Beta back from reciprocating the attack.

Yet Louis still remained sitting in his chair, unmoving, looking down onto his plate as his breathing shook.

Harry's breathing was still heavy, sweat coming down his forehead as he sits back down; ignoring Thomas's darkened eyes, or Maggie's frightened leer.

"Don't ever fucking touch me," he slurs to no one but himself, pointing a trembling finger at Louis. "let the boy speak, answer the question, Omega. Does cowardliness run in your family?"

Louis looks up, his own hand on his glass, unmoving. He bites the inside of his cheek, hard.

"No, Mr. Styles. It doesn't," He answered, voice sounding dimensions away but still cold, careful. "I'd like to think that I was proof it doesn't."

The children whimpered around them, but Harry paid no one any mind. It was just him and the Omega in this room right now. There was nothing else, no one else.

Thomas held Louis' hand as if he were trying to get the boy to stand as well. But Louis didn't budge, bitterly gripping the edge of the dining table.

"You'd think wrong then. Your father ran away from war, so he set sail to America. You've run away from your family, so you set sail back to Britain," Harry makes a drunk motion of a boat sailing with his hand, humming. "tell me this, Mr. Tomlinson, how long will it be before you've run away from Galilee as well?"

Louis stood up then, his lips unmoving.

"Right," Harry chuckled ruefully when he sees Maggie's hand intertwined with Louis', squeezing it three times comfortingly. "Don't speak. Perhaps it's better that way."

But Louis didn't stand to be in a protective distance away from Harry. He stood with his glass of wine still gripped in a closed fist.

Without any further warning, he lunges forward until he feels the broken glass crunch under his slippers.

"Fuck you," Louis throws the wine over Harry's face, shoving the glass against the Alpha's chest before exiting the dining area.

"Louis!" Maggie gasped in horror, everyone frozen in pure awe at how the alcohol drips from Harry's beard, crimson discoloring his pale skin as it looks as though he'd been shot. The intoxicant spreads through his white shirt like ink, painting all over his chest.

The Alpha darkens his eyes, running a hand over his face furiously before standing; stalking over to the Omega.

Harry overhauls up to Louis, his hand reaching out for the boy's bruised wrist, letting out a roar. "You don't turn your back to me, you-"

Louis then suddenly spins around, using all his force to slam Harry against the wall, slapping the man straight across his face.

It took Harry several seconds to process the pang of heated pain that struck him from the right, his drunk mind mistaking everything for numbness. But before he could respond, Louis' eyes filled with heated tears.

"You have no fucking right," Louis seethed, "No right at all to tell me what I have been through in my life!" The boy screamed, hitting his fists against the Alpha's chest as his nose flares, "You are a foul, _foul_ drunk. You have no right to drink, and you have certainly no right to be so cruel to me!"

Harry was unmoving, taking the strikes that the Omega gave him. His eyes closed as Louis pounded his hands forward sobbing until his ears were red-hot, "I have done no wrong towards you. I have been kind, helpful, waking up every day with a bloody smile on my face to keep you pleased!"

"Louis," Harry deepened the shadows of his eyes, his drunk words muttering ahead.

"I hate you," The Omega cried with his voice shaking, shoving Harry further into the wall; the flickering firelight gleaming at the sheen of wet tears that fell past his cheek. "I hate you like hell."

He was breaking down and having trouble breathing, both hands on Harry's stomach, gripping at his shirt to stable himself.

Then, two much stronger hands captured his wrists softly, holding them up; the bruises coming into sight.

"Louis," Harry repeated with the boy's hands seized, his eyes heavy and tired. The Omega shakes his head, another sob leaving his chest as he gasps for air, not meeting the Alpha's eyes.

Harry stayed his place against the wall, bending his body down. He inclined closer, intoxicated mind finishing off his words with his lips pressed against the boy's ear. "What if I say I don't need you here with me?"

Louis then lets out a loud, wet laugh with no real backbone behind it. He allows the Alpha to still have his hands clutched away, his knee pressing harshly into Harry's thigh. "I'd say that frankly, Mr. Styles, I don't give a living shit what you need."

The wine dripping from Harry's beard falls onto Louis' cheek as they stood, but the Omega paid no mind. He looked prettier this way, eyes swollen and tear-soaked. "You've given me two months, and I intend to use them till the very last grain of sand drops from the hourglass."

Harry lowers their intertwined hands, unable to help himself from smearing the droplet of wine across his cheek to his jaw.

The Omega allows it. He allows it. Harry murmurs to him, voice so quiet that it could have been burned in the fire. "You don't belong here, do you know that?"

That seemed to be all it took for Louis to pull away. With his tears still fresh in his eyes, the Omega then turns around, pulling off his cardigan and starting to unbutton his nightshirt.

Harry's head raced faster with every moment, the walls seeming to grow arms and hold his body in place as he watched the boy strip in front of him.

"What are you doing?" The Alpha could only croak, swallowing the acid of his throat back down.

The boy doesn't answer, anger still leeching on his face as he turns around with his stomach against the wall, now next to Harry's body.

"Run your hands across my spine, Mr. Styles." He says.

The wall pushes Harry forward as soon as Louis utters those words. His large shadow causes the light to disappear from Louis' naked back, only his silhouette coming into view.

The Omega waits, his breathing now stuttering when Harry's cold fingertips reach out to graze the curve of his neck first. It was a valley of smooth skin, nothing but soft, golden hairs standing at the touch.

And then Harry trailed deeper down, his index finger stopping at the first scar that hit the palm of his hand. His breathing stopped.

Louis trembled at the feeling, pursing his lips to stifle an audible shiver; closing his eyes even in the dark. "Do you feel that? The jagged lines? The odd cuts and scrapes?"

"Yes." Harry pants out, maudlin mind in a state of shock at how it all came into view then when his vision now clearing from the invisible fog.

Louis was littered with deep gashes. Louis isn't smooth. Louis was leather tight skin that was stitched over and over again. Louis was ripped as if he were made of thin fabric, torn on every edge and sealed with dried blood.

Harry backed away so his body didn't block the firelight anymore, gripping the mantle so he didn't fall over when he sees the glow fall over the dips of the Omega's back.

The bruises on his wrists complimented the ones that traced down every bone that made up his spine. They screamed in color, mocking Harry as they sprawled near the boy's ribs.

The Alpha's throat went dry, no words coming out. Only a deep swallow that made Louis let out another spineless chuckle.

"Curtesy of my previous husband, Max." The Omega says, picking up his cardigan to throw over his shoulders before he turned around; looking down with a smile at the Alpha who was now suspended in his place on the floor.

"I am not a coward, sir. I am a survivor. I did not come to the countryside for work because I was a lonely rich boy who wasn't given enough attention," He flicks away a loose strand of hair from his face. "I haven't fought in a war as you did, Mr. Styles. But I am not weak, and I think that is one thing we have in common, don't you?"

"I didn't... I didn't know." Harry whispered, the alcohol evaporating from his senses.

"Did you ever even care to?" Louis tilted his head.

Before the Alpha could answer, the boy shook his head, the bitter smile still cemented on his rosy lips. "I don't need your pity, and you made it clear you sure as hell don't need mine. But what I do need is a chance from you to see me more than an Omega. I'm here for work."

He swallows harshly, walking towards Harry. "We don't have to be friends. I'm sorry for thinking that we could be. But I have to be your help and you have to be my boss."

Then the Omega bends down to his knees then, meeting Harry's head level. It was his turn to lean in close, pushing away Harry's hair from his ear to one side, his cold lips pressing to the Alpha's earlobe.

Harry closes his eyes at the feeling, the smell of berries taking up his tastes; his mouth growing wet.

"And if you ever talk about my family again," Louis whispered, slow and poisonously. "I'll make you wish you had died in that bloody battlefield you speak so dearly of, sir."

That seemed to be when Harry opens his eyes, his bitten lips open to finally speak out something, _anything_ ; but he finds himself sitting alone.

The only other alive thing in the room was the roaring fire behind his wine covered back.

Louis had already left.

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Email: swanwrites01@gmail.com


	4. CLEAN

**_FOUR:_ ** _CLEAN_

_"Stars, hide your fires; / Let not light see my black and deep desires."_  
— William Shakespeare, ' _Macbeth_ '

**—**

**_"DEATH," HARRY A_ ** _sks Mr. Burke, placing a slice of bread in front of the man, the crumbs at the bottom of the loaf falling to the dirt ground below them, "Is that what you fear the most?"_

_He slices one-third of the loaf for himself, using a jasper knife that digs through the dark rye in a sawing manner._

_Mr. Burke lets out a_ _trembling_ _laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards for a moment before he shakes his head._

_Burke was a pale man, his skin so translucent you could see his veins run like rivers all through his forehead. His scalp was shaven, along with any stubble residing on his chin or the lines of his jaw._

_The hollows of his cheeks caved in as did his hooded eyes, it was as if he was tight skin wrapped around a skull, empty._

_Burke bites into the pale crust, the bone of his jaw working hard like he was chewing down raw rubber._ _He swallows thickly, using the back of his hand to wipe the morsels of biscuit against his lip._

_"No sir," he answers, not meeting Harry's eyes. Mr. Burke leans against the tree, hazel gape stuck onto the field of poppies. "I don't fear death."_

_A small flock of bluebirds flies over to a poppy flower, picking at the sepals, their wings stroking at the petals. Burke's gaze follows the birds, swallowing once more. Harry didn't miss the way the man's fingertips shook._

_"Then what is it?" Harry asks in a murmur, looking at the side of Burke's head. "What is it that makes you scream as you do at night?"_

_Another wave of silence._

_This was alright, Harry knew the silence all too well from the veterans. The Alpha pockets the jasper knife, watching how the Beta takes another bite of bread, and this time, his jaw shakes._

_Burke picks at the crumbs, throwing them towards the birds as they sang happily at the food. Their thin, sharp beaks picked at the brown fragments, turning their necks up to consume them whole._

_He smiled, but it felt miles away as if it were lost in the sea; taken away by a typhoon._

_"I don't fear death." Burke repeats, his voice now taken down in a hush, carried away with the autumnal wind, "I fear how my body will be found."_

_He looks down, lids closed slightly before he turns towards Harry; the Alpha believed he could see distress written in the Beta's irises._

_"They found Johnson's body in the heat of July, you remember that?" He shudders out a spineless chuckle, cursing under his breath before he spoke again." the foxes feasted on parts of his stomach so deep that you could see the whites of where his ribs connected. And his eyes, fuck they ate his eyes."_

_Harry reaches out and gripped Burke's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly but the shaky breath that left the Beta's lips couldn't be stopped._

_"He had such pretty eyes, remember? His wife used to tell us that's why she fell in love with him. Those big brown eyes," Burke's smile melted like candle wax, his thin blond lashes wet, "and then when she came in to recognize the body, how she screamed when she saw Johnson's eyes were missing, nothing but pockets of flesh."_

_Burke throws another pile of crumbs at the birds, this time it was angry, furious. He lets out a loud curse, dropping the entire loaf on the ground as he pinches down on his lips harshly._

_"Johnson wasn't left as a man, he was skin and bone, drank from like a blood bag."_

_Burke's foot dug into the soil below, the damp mud covering the top of his shoe, polishing the black to thick mahogany._

_Harry watches carefully how the Beta takes a sharp intake of breath as he wipes the beads of sweat from the outline of his cupid's bow; pale skin now green and optics dark before he muttered his next words._

_"And fuck, the smell," Burke lets out a wet sputter, "they never warn you about the smell, sir. You wouldn't know if he laid there for years or for hours."_

_It was Harry's turn to look away. The smell._

_It begins immediately after death, your first days are spent with your heart, your lungs, and your brain to rot and decay._

_In three days' time, a sickly green ooze of blood and foam spills out your mouth as if the body were still alive; still spitting out the kiss of death._

_And less than one month, after your nails and teeth fall from your body as leaves do from their tree, the body liquefies._

_Those were the lucky ones._

_"The maggots crawling in his mouth, crawling down his throat. Did he die screaming or did he die smiling, I don't know. But the buzzards flying above did, and so did that damn smell." Burke nods vigorously, his hands shaking as he runs a hand through the perspiration collection on his scalp._

_There was a distant chiming of church bells that blocked out the sound of Harry's stuttering heart. The warm spring air around them was now cold, blank._

_The Alpha tightens his grip on the bark of the tree until his knuckles go white before he murmured, "You fear you will die the same as Johnson then?"_

_Burke reaches towards his own collar, tugging at the silver chain he had wrapped around his neck. The sun's light gave the pendant a slight glare, but the Catholic cross that hung below was apparent._

_The Beta kisses the cross before he tucks it back into his collar, looking back at Harry's unbroken gaze._

_"I don't want the foxes to know my taste, sir. I don't want to scare the cattle away."_

_He turns back to the bluebirds, sight softening and shining like a rich man's coins._

_"When I die," Burke breathes out, "I want to be buried beneath the poppy flowers. Can you swear me that much, sir?"_

_Harry loosens his grip on the tree and lets his hand fall to his side. The blood in his veins ran thicker as he bows his head, the green of his eyes growing dark._

_"I swear it."_

_A sigh of relief is exhaled as Burke finally lets out his first cry. It was something that burned its engraving into your mind. It was violent, something a steel dam was holding, containing._

_He cried into the mud below him, he cried into Harry's shoulder when the Alpha pulled the man in; he cried until his voice went raw and crackled like fire._

_"You once said you aren't a killer," Harry muttered, his throat closing, "then what are you, Mr. Burke?"_

_"I don't know sir," the Beta's voice was carried away with the church bells,_

_For the first time then, Burke meets Harry's eyes; piercing through the green with the blade of his next mutters._

_"but I don't want to be laying in my grave to find that out."_

_—_

**_BLOOD IS EASIER TO W_** ash away than mud, Louis figured that out on the seventh day of his residence at Galilee.

There was something beautiful about it, almost, in a way that made the Omega sick to his stomach. The way the white cloth would capture the cold river water, washing away the crimson splatters.

The way the red flowed down into the stream, mimicking childhood chalk on the sidewalk that would melt away from the steam of summer rain.

The boy was kneeling against the wet grass beside the river, rubbing thin pillowcases against the wooden washboard until bubbles foamed at the center, spitting out different shades of dirt.

He listened to Arabella and Matthew mimic a lone frog's movements as they hop from stone to stone, acting as if the river was shooting down ribbons of lava.

Louis smiles to himself as he hears their croaks and giggles, but it was quick to fade when the yellow bruises that ringed around his wrists came into view.

His mouth goes slightly dry and smile dims. The Omega drops the damp pillowcase onto the grass, tightening his jaw as he hurried to tug on his cotton sleeves until they fell over his knuckles.

He sighs, staring down at his concealed flesh, closing his eyes as they burned from the movement.

It had been six days since he had seen Mr. Styles' face, and the image of his alcohol-soaked shirt and drunken perceptions under firelight was all he could picture as he tried to remember how the Alpha had looked that night.

The blood in the river looked like the red wine that dripped from Harry's neck, the wine that Louis pitched all over the man with curses spilling from his lips. Green eyes staring at his scars, bare and drunk.

He had since created himself a premeditated schedule, stretching different times of the day into a labyrinth that avoided any real contact with Mr. Styles.

In the mornings, Louis woke up so early that a sliver of sunlight barely broke through the cracks of cotton clouds.

He'd gather the soiled clothes and sheets from each dorm of the veterans in Galilee Inn, and then headed straight down to the river. He wouldn't return until he heard church bells ring.

Washing clothes of each group of the previous soldiers allowed the boy to figure out everything he needed to know about the kinds of people on this plot of land.

Cabin A Veterans were the violent ones. Their shirts would be ripped and picked at the seam until there were holes so large that one would think mice were gnawing through the fabric.

Many of their vests and sweaters would have stains of blood dried to a crust on the collars.

Cabin B Veterans were sweatier. Night sweats were common for those with irreversible trauma. They would often be urination spots all over their trousers; spots that sometimes had been so permanent that the fabric would be thrown out altogether.

Cabin C Veterans were nervous, paranoid. Louis would find hair, nails, and grains of skin in their clothing. He believed that the skin came from reopened wounds. Many soldiers would claw open their bandages, digging their nails into their scars.

The Omega bit his tongue at the image and washed it all away.

Then when it was time for Mr. Styles' medication, he'd set down two tablets and a glass of water on the Alpha's desk one hour beforehand. No measuring spoons or worried glances.

Some mornings, he would hear Mr. Styles' footsteps out on the wooden wrap-around porch. The Omega would then stay behind, waiting in the kitchen for him to leave; heart thrumming nervously.

The smoke from the Alpha's cigar would dance its way into Louis' hair, and the scent would linger there for the rest of the day.

With every inhale he'd take, he would try to picture the man smoking on the porch. He would try to imagine his breathing, his violent hands holding that delicate cigar.

And when Harry would come back inside, Louis would hold his breath until the Alpha closed his door; the sound of his lock confirming his absence.

The two walked on eggshells with one another, even when no words were said.

"Lou?"

The Omega looked up, strawberry blonde hair grazing at his cheek as he did so. His smile returns, warm and genuine.

"Yes, Ara?" He asks, picking up the fallen pillowcase.

"Can you peel this?" The girl pouts, handing over a bruised orange; her thumbs covered in the sticky juice, clear evidence that she had tried to pry open the fruit herself.

Louis shakes his head before breathing out a laugh, easily uncovering the citrus without any trouble. Arabella watches with wide eyes, her pink lips open in awe.

"Give your brother half, he'll thank you for it." Louis points to Matthew, who is yawning underneath the sun, finding a shady spot beneath the peach tree to lay down.

The orange peels fall to the banks, the wet mud that the sun could not bake devoured them whole.

It was almost as if Galilee were a creature itself, breathing and bleeding. The bark of the peach trees would sigh out the sap in the afternoon, as the ground would cry soil after heavy rainfall.

"There are fruit flies around the river, you see them?" Louis asks when Arabella returns, running right into the Omega's arms with orange juice now around her mouth.

"Mhm!" The girl points to one crawling on her tanned arm. She sticks out her tongue and closes an eye; like archers with their target.

She slaps at her skin, but the fly escapes just in the nick of time, buzzing towards the opposite end of the river. Arabella hangs her head in failure.

He hums, pointing her towards the direction of yet another; this time the insect peacefully is still on the jagged bark of the peach tree.

"When I was little like you, my mother taught me to catch a fruit fly. It's time you learned the secret, no?" He queries, one eyebrow playfully raised.

This made the girl excited, her freckled skin capturing a golden light as if the Omega had just lit a wire in her brain. Her smile was like her father's.

"Yes," she nods her head vigorously, "please."

Their shadows hover over the fly, the sun behind them a hazy halo behind their heads. Louis kneels to match the girl's height, keeping his voice to a hush.

"You have got to be quick. The trick is to always be one step ahead." He whispers, watching how the antenna of the creature was relaxed, unaware of their plotting.

"Why?" Ara asks, copying the same low voice the older Omega used.

The fly shifts deeper into the cracks of the bark, settling down inside the wood. They watch it rubs its legs together as if it was already planning an escape.

"They have a hundred eyes, and you've only got two. That's why you have to look a hundred different ways," Louis squints, Arabella does too.

"By the time you get to the spot it's already in, it'll already be by the poppy flower there," he points across their view, "it's like a game."

Arabella accidentally lets out a breath of air through her nose, causing the fly to buzz angrily against her sight which causes her to shriek in surprise and fall back.

Louis catches her, letting out a chuckle as the girl deepens her frown.

"Not a fun game." Arabella stands straight, the fly now walking on her hand. She looks closely to make sure the insect sees her displeasure.

"Games are only fun when you lose once in a while if you always win it wouldn't be a game. That's boring, no?" Louis murmurs, making the girl smile a little, nod.

Again, Ara waits for the fly to settle down and rub its legs and relax. Louis helps her bring up her hand from the side and then swipes like a thief in the dead of night.

"Oh!" The girl squeals.

She opens her hand. Empty. She sighs frustrated. "I didn't get it."

"It takes practice," Louis smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear. "lucky for you, you smell like oranges, so you'll always see the fruit flies."

Arabella beams at that, her cheeks growing red. She looks out at the river, and for the first time, Louis hears the loud rush of water beating against the stones wash through his head like radio static.

Ara is quiet for a moment, her eyes not leaving the river's stream.

"Lou?" She asks.

"Hm?"

"What does 'cow-ard' mean?"

The Omega looks down, furrowing his eyebrows. The scars on his back begin to feel a slight burn.

"Why do you want to know?"

Arabella shrugs, her bare feet playing with the morning dew gathered on the tips of grass.

"Uncle called your papa a cow-ard, remember? When it was night and mama made pie? He called you one too."

Louis doesn't answer. Instead, he swallows, looking back down at his bruises. His skin felt sticky by the condensation, but mouth dry when at a loss for words.

A fly then lands against his trousers, this time, he has no intention to catch it.

"A coward is someone who is very scared. So scared that they run away from things." Louis watches the fruit fly walk across his thigh before it reaches to his hip and seems to soar away. The Omega's voice is distant, but it echoes inside his head.

"You're not scared, you can catch flies! Papa can't even catch flies, and he is older than you. Much older." Arabella angrily exclaims, her grip on Louis' hand growing tighter.

Louis looks down at the little girl and studies her face. Her light brows her pushed together in annoyance, the tips of her pale ears red.

She hugs the Omega's leg, scowls not leaving her features. Now, she looked like Maggie. Louis shakes his head, a slight smile growing back as he felt his heart warm.

He leans down and kisses her head.

"Wake Matthew up, or I'm sure the swamp sirens will collect him for supper. Your mother would be very displeased with me then, no?"

Arabella lets out a squeak before rushing over to Matthew's side, pinching at her sibling's shoulder as he lazily turned over in the grass, yawning some more.

Louis smiles, hanging the last washed sheets on the wire that was tied between two apple trees. Red ants gnawed on the cores of the fallen crimson treats, scattering away as the Omega waved his slipper at the army.

The damp sheets drip cool water onto Louis' hands. He looks down at his palms, rubbing them together. The summer wind blows a cool draft, the sheets waving like a white flag of surrender in response.

The light through the leaves cast a distorted shadow over Louis' face, their rustling sounding like whispers; gossip of nature. The boy sighed slightly, picking up the weaved laundry basket, calling after the children that it was time to return back home.

Their home, not his; Louis reminded himself.

They cling to his legs the whole walk uphill, Church bells ringing so loud that they cover their ears and moan in despair. Maggie stands in front of the door of the main cabin when she spots the three, waving her hand with a tired smile.

"Oh, let go of his legs, you monkeys!" Maggie groans, snapping her fingers until Ara and Matthew snicker, running into the house; their bare feet leaving small spots of mud behind that causes the pregnant Omega to rub her temples.

She takes the empty basket from Louis' hands, her face shifting from motherly anger to a soft smile. "I hope they cause you no bother. I try to make them more attentive towards the Bible as they are to your washing days."

Louis lets out a small laugh, shaking his head before saying, "They are no trouble at all, I need their company more than they need mine."

Maggie raises a brow, "I assure you, if they were given the chance, they'd sleep on your bedroom floor."

Louis smiles at the way the children sit on the steps, swinging lazily on the railings as they try to lean in on their mother's conversation. When caught by the Omega's eyes, they hide their faces behind their palms and bite down fits of laugher, shy.

The day after the calamitous dinner, Maggie ran circles to make sure Louis' comfort at Galilee exceeded all the nights before. She'd send his meals upstairs, understanding when Louis would decline an invitation to sit at the table again.

Then Maggie would send him off to small tasks that were an obvious cover for when Harry'd return inside after spending a whole day out. It was a desperate attempt, but Louis appreciates her efforts wholeheartedly.

"Bath time, you two, I already heated the water," Maggie reminds her kids without even turning her back, scoffing at the exaggerated groans that follow.

Her eyes suddenly light up as she returns her gaze at Louis, "Oh, I almost had forgotten! Mr. Murphy had returned your call. His office hours end at seven is what he told me. I am sure you could still catch him if you wish now."

Louis nearly curses as he stares at the clock and it reads 'six thirty-four'. He reaches out to the coat hook near the door, grabbing a thin shawl to drape over his shoulders.

"Thank you, I'll only be a moment, really," he promises the pregnant Omega.

The telephone room should be empty at this hour, nearly all the Alpha men are out in the barn or fields. The front yard was usually vacant, apart from wandering caterpillars lingering upon the wallflowers.

"Take as long as you need!" Maggie reassures quickly, then turns to sigh, "Oh god, Matthew, do _not_ try to chew the candlestick!"

The sky already grew a darker shade of blue, the thick clouds dimming and growing thinner as if the sun had stepped on their white thread.

The booth stood with its door open, Louis' prediction of the yard being empty confirmed when he sees that the morning dew still sat on the grass; melting away when he continues his steps.

Numbers were etched into the side of the telephone room's wooden door, wires sprawled in the corner that was an evident sign that it had been occupied recently.

A small booklet sat beside the candlestick phone, the pages crinkled with dried tea stains and blotches of ink that made the digits blurry and difficult to decipher.

Louis turns the pages until he hits the 'M's' section, his finger delicately trailing down at the parchment until he sees a star drawn next to 'Kane Murphy', a string of numbers written neatly next to the name.

The Omega bites the inside of his cheek before he reached out for the telephone, hesitating before he registered the units and heard a faint, staticky ring behind the blood rushing through his veins.

It rang two more times before a woman's voice could be heard, a Scottish accent with a deep pitch.

"Hello?" She said in a skeptical tone, more perplexed than greeting.

Louis pinches at his arm nervously, as if she were right in front of him, "Hello, is Mr. Murphy available to speak? I had made an appointment earlier, but I am sure if you just tell him my name he would understand."

He could hear the woman shifted in her seat, a rustling of papers as her tone shifted from confused to timid.

"You merely caught him, actually, he was just about to leave. May I get a name?"

"Louis William," The Omega paused before speaking again, as if it were an afterthought of his, "Tomlinson, sorry. Louis Tomlinson."

But the receptionist didn't seem to notice or mind at all, she simply replied, "Just a moment."

The white noise returned within the wires, and for a minute Louis considered hanging up. It was an impulsive thought, but the slight rustling behind muffled voices struck the Omega anxious. He bit the inside of his cheek, but his uneasiness was extinguished when a familiar voice came through the speaker.

"Louis?" a deep, gruff sound asked from the other line.

"Mr. Murphy!" The boy exclaimed excitedly, his volume involuntarily mimicking his energy. he immediately slapped a hand across his mouth when he hears the Alpha yelp in surprise at the outburst, "Oh dear, heh, I hope I haven't blasted your ear off. Sorry, sir."

"It's fine, lad," the man murmurs but it was obvious he had switched the phone to his left ear. "It's quite late, isn't it? Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes of course," Louis convinces, "I just would like to confirm my transportation times with you. I had written to your office that I would like to leave on Thursday?"

There was now a string of silence. Even through the phone, Louis could see the line form between Mr. Murphy's furrowed brows.

The man cleared his throat before he replied in the same confused tone as his receptionist.

"I don't seem to understand, Louis," Mr. Murphy's voice was slow on the phone, " I was under the impression you were given a two-month opportunity? Do you wish to leave by noon on Sunday?"

"Morning of Saturday actually, yes," Louis feels himself nodding, "If it is no trouble to you of course. I am also willing to stay a fortnight if your departure for my request is an inconvenience. I have already written to the asylum and Mrs. Lawrence had accepted my re-admission for my previous hostel."

"No, not an inconvenience at all, rather bewilderment," Murphy clears his throat again in obvious discomfort. "Why is it that you wish to leave so soon? Do they treat you well? I must file a report if they gave you an ill time."

Louis tightened his grip around the telephone stick, eyes growing slightly.

"Oh, it is truly nothing like that! They are all very kind here, sir, the kindest people I have met in years," Louis reassures as he looks down at the bruises on his wrists, his throat going slightly dry, "Yet I don't believe I am... suited for any work here. I will search for a different trade when we return to Manchester."

More silence follows, but this time something settles in the pit of Louis' stomach; a lump of guilt. 

Mr. Murphy was the first one to speak again, not entirely convinced. "And have you given a notice to Mr. Styles of your leave?"

"I am sure he wouldn't deny me of my request," Louis let's out a soft laugh without any real humor behind it, "but I promise you, I intend on letting Mr. and Mrs. Trainor know this late afternoon when Mr. Trainor is present."

"This is all too abrupt, I'll have to make new requests for an Alpha boy to take your place. You are in understanding of this?" Murphy speaks as if the Omega was a drunk child, slow like a summer tree's sap.

Louis pushes another chuckle, but it causes his jaw to ache and chest to churn. "Yes, I am. I take none of it to the offense, it is all for the best, on the contrary."

Louis then rests his head on the wooden table of the telephone room, his shoulders relaxing lazily as his cheek is resting against the cool surface. He rests for a moment like that, before Mr. Murphy feels obliged to talk.

"Alright, if you are sure Louis, I can send Isaiah no earlier than Wednesday morning. He will stop at Birmingham and then make his route towards Galilee. I need a verbal confirmation for this date."

There is some distant scratching on paper that can be heard, and Louis almost lets out a laugh at the noise; serious and official. Something so lifeless.

"I agree with it. Thank you, sir." Louis could only mumble, unsure if Murphy even caught his words. But he was proven wrong once again when the pen scratching continued its movements.

"Have your papers and luggage in order, I will be seeing you soon. Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon. Until we meet then."

And without another word, Louis hung up the line, feeling the conversation die as if the last few minutes had never happened.

He looks out into the sky again and sees that the sun has begun to set.

This time, there was no blue to be seen.

—

**_BUBBLES RAN ALONGSIDE M_** atthew's cheek as the boy splashes carelessly in the cold water. Maggie promised Louis that she had it warmed, but it took so long to convince her children that there were no swamp sirens hiding underneath the drain.

"I look like a mammoth!" Matthew announces, jumping up as his hair sticks up in all different directions from the shampoo.

"That you do," Maggie smiles, pouring water over her son's head until his blonde hair fell flat against his face.

"Hm, or Father Christmas," Louis proposed, grabbing loose bubbles that floated on the bath, placing them like a beard at Matthew's mouth. The boy laughed aloud in delight, refusing for his mother to wash his new facial hair away.

"Me! Do me!" Arabella demands jealously, frowning as she was already enveloped in a towel; dry and clean.

Louis raises a playful brow, dolloping a small sphere of fluff on the girl's nose. "Oh Ara, you are a little reindeer, I thought you already knew."

That seems to please her well enough as she goes cross-eyed in awe at her new muzzle, grinning from ear to ear.

Maggie grabs the towel placed beside her, lifting Matthew away from the tub and wrapping him the same way she did Arabella. The woman hums as she dries her son's hair.

"Did you get ahold of Murphy all right?" She asks Louis, her eyes flicking to his for a small moment.

"Yes, I reached him right before he left his office, luckily enough. He sounded displeased." Louis tried to keep his voice lighthearted but feels his stomach twist.

"And what was it you needed to ask of him again? Were some of your clothes left behind in your former dorm?" Maggie questioned, her eyebrows furrowing.

"Clothes and some old letters from back home," Louis lies, "they should be returned to me before the end of this week."

"Very good," Maggie almost sounded relieved, causing the boy's stomach to drop at the sincerity of her smile. "I'm glad."

Louis weakly returns one, more forced and tight that his lips stretch. He forces his gaze away.

"It's fucking _freezing_ outside," The door opens suddenly, two shivering bodies entering the house. Niall throws his scarf mindlessly on the ground before rushing towards the heater. "it's April, can your Jewish God give me some damn sunshine, Danny?"

Louis watches how the Irish man's body seems to go boneless for a moment at the way the waves of temperature from the fire crackles against his pale skin. Danny quickly makes his way to Niall's side, sighing happily with the heat beating into his pink fingers.

"No cursing, find better words," Maggie scolds, gesturing towards Arabella and Matthew who look up at the men with wide eyes, "and don't say 'Jewish God', Niall, you sound like a barking buffoon."

Danny didn't seem to mind, instead, he smiled as he moves away from the fire to stretch his back, a few pops of his joints filling the air.

He was taller and thinner than Niall, his limbs wiry. Dark hair sprouted in large, frizzy curls, like wildflowers blooming up the hills during spring. Round glasses sat high up on his slender nose, framing the hazel eyes that resembled a rare shade of amber.

"There's the Jewish hell, eh? Then there's a place lower than hell," Danny puts his hand down to the mantle, smirking slightly, "then there's a place just for you, dear friend." the man then sets his hand on the ground, back bending all the way down.

"Oh fuck off, Danny," Niall waves the man off, "if God is a Jew, who wants to go to heaven anyway, can't even eat a bloody brisket sandwich...Kosher bloke."

"Language!" Maggie hissed.

Niall turns around, finally acknowledging the rest of the room as he lifts his hat at the audience. He then does a double-take, raising a brow.

"And what do we have here?" He points at Arabella's wet hair. He looks up at the ceiling, "is there a leak in the roof?"

"No," The girl pouted, taking his teasing seriously, "Mama _made_ me take a bath."

"Ah, is that why you and your brother no longer smell like the cattle? Almost didn't recognize you two." Niall retorts, causing Arabella to frown deeper and hide her face in Louis' chest.

"Stop picking on my offspring, you mutt," Maggie sighs, trying to comb through Matthew's untamed mane.

"He's only joking, flower," Louis whispered to the girl.

"Truly, I am," Niall raised his hands in surrender, grin remaining. He searches in his pockets before pulling out two small sweets wrapped in silver tin foil. "Here, want some chocolate?"

"I do!" Matthew jumps out of Maggie's hold, clawing at the treats.

Niall pulls the candies away, whistling, "What are the sacred words?"

Arabella pokes her head out from Louis' arms, suddenly interested.

"Bugger off." The girl whispers.

Maggie chokes on air while Danny lets out a loud cackle; Louis finds it troubling to bite down his smile, letting out a muffled laugh.

"Oh for Christ's sake, Niall!" The Omega mother heaves when the Beta hands over the chocolate to the children, approving their achievement.

"He is a terrible man, truly terrible." Danny sighs, lips nevertheless tugging upward.

Niall smiles sheepishly, bending down to give Maggie's head a kiss. The Beta puts a hand over her stomach, "Hm, will this be the one I can claim as my Godchild?"

"You're an atheist," Danny reminds, heading over to the two to grin at the bloated abdomen. "I believe this one will be mine. I will have their head sized for a kippah as soon as it leaves the womb."

"Over my godless body," Niall grumbles. He turns to Louis for the first time, who was smiling at the trio, watching their dynamics quietly.

"What do you think, Lou?" Niall queries.

"I'm sorry?" The Omega asks, out of his trance with a blush warming his face.

"Would a handsome, sensible, good-humored man as myself make a decent defender over this unborn creature," He motions towards Maggie's belly bump, ignoring the woman's scoff, "or would you rather have Danny?"

"Arabella, what were those sacred words again?" Danny questions slyly. Maggie puts a hand over her child's mouth.

"Now, now, let the boy answer," Niall still has his eyes on Louis, "go on."

Louis shrugs slightly, a small smirk drawing upon his lips.

"Perhaps you should negotiate with the actual Mother, _I_ am just the helpless maid making ends meet." Louis sighs playfully, his hand sprawling over his forehead melodramatically.

Maggie stifles her laughter in the back of her hand, putting Ara and Matthew in their pajamas with the other. Danny smiles as well, his interest peaked.

"Helpless maids are what make a story so gratifyingly rich, haven't you heard?" Niall jests theatrically, a twinkle alive in his blue optics. He leans in closer towards Louis to whisper mischievously, "The actual mother is a bore and would rather choose a stag bug as her child's guardian before one of us."

Maggie scoffs with an eye roll as the other three are lost in their own chuckles, throwing a wet towel at Niall's face; disregarding the way the Beta yells in surprise.

"You're right on that," the Omega stands, slapping Danny's hands when the man took out a pack of smokes. "No smoking."

Danny gasps without any real surprise, dramatically gesturing to the unlit cigarettes on the ground as if it further proved Niall's point.

"I remember when I once wanted that one," Danny sighed, watching Matthew gnaw on Niall's shoulder, the Irish man trying to bat off the boy with his hat beating at his face. Matthew only giggled. He thought it was a game. "I am glad I chose the latter."

"All my children are already assigned their one true Godparent since birth," Maggie says, "Zayn will care for them."

"Zayn has a leg and a half," Niall sulked, "How do _I_ get beat?"

"Zayn was a Lieutenant Commander in the war," Danny muses to Louis, "while they had to hunt Niall down to join."

"Needed citizenship somehow," Niall adds in his defense, "rather just not have to risk my limbs to receive it."

"He said they'd never catch him alive," Danny lets out a howling laugh, tugging down on Niall's sleeve, "so they shot him in the arm until he fainted from the blood. That caught him."

Louis widened his eyes at the large scar that trailed down from Niall's shoulder to his elbow; a deep, pink gash engraved within his white skin. It was as wide as a crown coin and deep enough that Louis was sure the tip of his thumb could go through.

"Oh God," The boy stood, putting a careful hand on Niall's shoulder. "were you alright?"

"Makes for a good story," The Beta waves off, amused at Louis' concern, as if they exchanged nothing more than a secret handshake, "I tell pretty Omegas like yourself that the German's Kaiser gave me this scar. But look--"

"who made it out alive," Danny finishes for him, "We've only heard that line about a few thousand times. Only landed him one bird since the war."

"Two. Two birds, I believe." Maggie helps, feeling pitiful when she sees Niall's wound. The Beta gives her an excited thumbs up in thanks.

"That is remarkable," Louis' gaze was still transfixed on the lesion. "you truly were in hiding?"

Niall shrugs, "Had a lot to lose at the time. My Mam was sick, as was my Aunt, they left Dublin a year before. I spent the first year in gaol, but as the war progressed I wasn't left with much choice."

There was a small glimmer of grief behind his words, causing Louis to furrow his eyebrows. The boy gives his shoulder a squeeze, only having a soft smile to offer.

"You're quite brave for staying just as much as you are for going," The omega assures, "And even more so for being proud of it. It is not about what you bring to war, but what you make of it."

The room was quiet then, three blank faces looked back at Louis as the children were already curled up asleep in their mother's lap. Their sights were all on Louis, brows raised and mouths slightly agape. Niall's grin shifted to a softer simper.

"What?" Louis asked, his cheeks hot, shying away from their gazes.

"You made Horan sound as if he were a hero," Danny blinks, "I didn't realize that was even possible."

"Damn right," Niall beamed and patted the Omega on the shoulder, bashfully gazing at the lad. "You're all right in my book, kid. I couldn't have said it better myself."

"Bloody right you couldn't have," Maggie agreed just as stunned, her face softening as she looks up at Louis, "You do quite have a way with speaking. Hell, if I didn't know any better, I'd think Niall was a respectable man."

"Blimey, Mags," Danny murmurs, covering Matthew's ears even though the boy was sound asleep, "there are children present."

"Oh shut up."

Louis shakes his head, letting himself relax into the atmosphere of the room. This he could do, light and effortless. Their bantering and cursing were warm as if it were an invitation for Louis to be safe, calm. He takes it.

"You've also got a tattoo," The Omega points under Niall's wound, three inked lines trailing slightly down and connecting sloppily. It took the boy a moment of examination before he realizes that it was a roman numeral.

Maggie and Danny groaned at the same time after Louis offers his observation audibly, Niall's toothy grin returning.

"Now you've done it, Lou," Maggie muttered, her head tilting back until she faced the ceiling, Danny already rubbed her temples.

"Done what--" Louis begins to ask with a curious glint glittering in the corner of his eyes.

"It was August third, 1917," Niall begins, pushing a foot on the leg of the couch, his fists on his hips as he held his head like a god on a Greek Mythology book page.

" _That_." Danny points, already looking ill.

Louis would have almost given the man an apologetic glance if he weren't enjoying the way Niall deepened his voice theatrically, paying no mind to the booing audience.

"Paris, France was our spot of rest for the time being. I was given a one day leave, and I took it upon myself to head to a rather ratty looking pub; one where they made their own beer." Niall tells on.

"It was wine," Maggie and Danny sigh in unison, clear that it had been many times they heard this tale.

"No, no. I would never drink wine, that's a Catholic's ail. It was beer," The Beta continues when he though he convinced Louis well enough. His eyes then shined bright, "and that's where I spotted her, an actual living, breathing, angel. Right behind the counter, polishing a dirty glass. Amélie Grey."

"Or at least, that's what he calls her. The fool never got to know her real name." Maggie whispers to Louis, purposefully loud so Niall could hear her, but he gave her no thought.

"Oh, she looked like an Amélie. Dark skin, hair that fell over her shoulders, young glint, and taller than Danny over here."

"Oi, don't compare your wet dream to me." The Alpha warns, disgust taking over his features.

"Was she your mate?" Louis asked quietly, his genuine interest peaking through.

Danny pressed his lips together to keep himself from laughing, Louis frowned at him.

"Don't laugh, tell me."

"In his mind, yes. Actually? No." The Alpha confirms, using his hands to speak and put his words out more delicately so.

"She was not," Niall sighed admittedly, "That is my greatest regret. I fell in love with her for that one day leave, spent an entire afternoon exploring the cobblestone streets underneath a cathedral. Next thing I knew I was already sent off to Budapest. Never to see my Tuesday darling again."

"But that is impossible," Louis tried to reason, "you couldn't have possibly fallen in love with someone you had only known for twenty-four hours."

"Twenty-one," Niall slickly corrected, "we weren't doing much talking in the middle part, more so--"

Maggie cleared her throat. "Keep it clean or I'll make you scrub the pigpens all of next week."

Niall made a motion of zipping his mouth and throwing away the imaginary key, giving Louis a wink as the boy's out fell slightly agape.

"How did you know then?" Louis murmured, "That she was the one you loved?"

Niall unzips his mouth, quirking up a brow and shrugging with a content smile. "She wiped the dirt off of my cheek."

Louis furrows his brows, "You're taunting me now,"

"No, I am being truthful. A plain stranger or platonic acquaintance would utterly tell you that you've got dirt on your skin. One's true love, on the other hand, would simply reach out and wipe it off themselves, no words said." Niall explains, sincerity clear in his timbre. " _That_ is how I knew."

Louis was quiet for a moment, in the shadows of disbelief. He looks down at his hands, picking at the skin around his fingernails, not knowing how to respond to the way Niall seems so sure of this philosophy of easeful love.

Maggie seemed to notice. Quickly, she lifts her head.

"If you kept yourself clean like the rest of us you would never have been in that situation to begin with." She offers, earning a heartfelt howl from Danny and Niall clutching at his chest, impassioned; a man wounded.

"You all may be religious, but are as agnostic as they come. I can only wish for true love to seep into your bones." The Beta claims.

"I am married, happily," Maggie notes.

"And I am courting," Danny contradicts.

"Ah, mated folk are so delightfully easy to make jealous, wouldn't you agree, Lou?" Niall airily asks teasingly, using all his power to further bother his two dear comrades.

But instead, Louis froze slightly, forgetting that his own bond mark was faint and blended within the rest of his flesh. His collar suddenly felt tight, the lace at the trim itching at his skin.

He shifts uncomfortably, tightening the cardigan around his shoulders. It burned slightly as the Omega discreetly rubbing the back of his neck, smiling forcefully.

"I--" He opened his mouth lamely to speak, but then stopped.

That was when Louis heard the first scream.

An apparent cry ripped through the sweaty air with its glacial blade, a man gargling pleads from outside.

Louis first thought he may have imagined it, invented the goosebumps that rose on his arms; but when he looked over his shoulder and saw Niall and Danny stand taller with wide eyes, all humor draining from the room.

Maggie flinched horribly before she protectively envelops her arms around her children, huddling to a corner of the sofa.

Louis reaches out towards the door instinctively, but Danny puts one hand over the handle and looks back at Louis with a finger over his own lips, shaking his head slightly.

"Stay put, that is the protocol. We wait until someone calls for our aid."

Niall gives a noise of agreement as he was already by Maggie's side protectively, guarding the pregnant Omega.

"Listen to him, lad. Keep your distance, we've got men outside who'll handle it." The Beta nods, tone firm, and grave.

Louis bites the inside of his cheek, fingers still touching the door as he stares hard back at the Alpha. But as he hears another bloodcurdling scream, he lets go, hands falling to his side. This time, muffled words echoed through the morning clouds.

_"That fucking bastard... he's trying to kill me!"_

"Dorm C," Louis recognized immediately, "it sounds like Mr. Bingley."

"How do you know?" Danny inquired, eyebrows furrowed. His eyes looked darker now, more alert and Louis wondered if he did too with the way his hands shook.

"I washed his coat just this morning," The Omega replies in a mutter, watching the golden hinge of the door, unmoving, "he seemed to be doing so well."

His throat tightens at the thought, guilt tugging at his skin.

Danny squeezes the boy's shoulder as he notices the shift in his spirit, looking down at him with a softer eloquence, "Moments like this happen often here. Don't trouble yourself with any tension. It's your first time."

Louis couldn't help but recoil at the touch, feeling the scars of his back burn from the unfamiliar pressure that the man gave. He doesn't bother to be subtle as the feeling takes him by surprise as if a warning signal flew through his vision.

Danny feels his discomfort immediately, confusion settling on his face but he withdraws directly. Louis attempts to spare him a glance, a small nod of thanks but that was all. The burn didn't leave his body until a new scent reached from the other side of the door.

"Someone is coming," Maggie spoke up first, her voice weak from startlement, "Louis, come by me."

Louis was quick to oblige, switching spots with Niall as he senses an Alpha's presence approaching.

The door opens swiftly, a weary Liam sighing with a fresh scratch painted across his bare bicep.

Louis hadn't seen the man since the night of the dinner either. His eyes seemed more overcast, tired and red at the rims. Sweat collects in beads at the center of his forehead, his shirt dirty and wet against his skin.

"Harry's calling for Cabin C, Alfred's having a panic attack," He commands briskly, looking at Niall and Danny as he lets the cold air in.

"Ah shit," Niall muttered, already up to quickly tie the laces of his boots tighter, "when'd it start?"

Liam lets out a sigh full of exhaustion as he runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends before he answers.

"Entered stage one ten minutes ago, sweating buckets. But he's coming into stage two, yelling in delusions about a gun. And getting violent."

"Let's go then, eh?" Niall says to the two Alphas, Danny leaving with him without another moment of hesitation, making their way down to the cabin area.

But Liam waited in place, unmoving. He furrows his eyebrows as he glanced at Louis for the first time, his chin dipped low.

"Harry called for you too." He said.

Louis feels his heart go heavy in his chest. He tightens his grip on the leather of the sofa, color draining from his face.

"Me?" Louis' voice comes out small and insignificant, confusion morphing the shape of his words, "He used my name directly?"

"Said your name first, actually," Liam adds, examining Louis as if he was in the same state of disbelief. He nods his head towards outside, "come, I'll take you."

Louis stood his ground as if his feet were glued to the floorboards. His throat was drier now, scent sure to be sharp and bitter from the way his blood was rushing through his veins.

Maggie was quick to pick up on his misdemeanor as she looks back at Liam with stiffened shoulders.

They share a silent conversation, something that Maggie was able to do with every one of Galilee. She speaks with her glares and glances, and they listen.

"Liam, you already have the other men, he does not have to go," the pregnant Omega chooses to speak aloud now.

But Louis finds himself torn away from his spot, putting a hand on the crown of Maggie's head.

"I should go," He says to the mother, offering a small smile, "I'll be alright."

"Are you sure?" Her eyes were wide as the night of the dinner, worried and cautious.

The shouts turn into sobs, wet and demonic; a man possessed under insanity. Louis wraps the edges of his cardigan until it envelopes his neck, protecting him from the chilling winds outside. He kisses Maggie's hands.

"I'll come back if I change my mind."

She hesitates, biting her lip but nods.

Louis stands straight and puts his slippers back on, the soles still wet from the morning dew. He then turns to Liam, "lead the way."

They walk into the bitter cold together but Louis's mind was oceans apart. He feels a certain nervousness pang through the shake of his legs, finding it difficult to breathe.

_'Said your name first, actually'_ still tugs the wires of his mind. Had Harry thought of him, even after seeing what was underneath the fabric of Louis' shirt? He tries to conjure the image of the man's face again, green eyes drunk and red lips sputtering liquor. Both lit by firelight.

Louis swallows, carrying on to walk side by side with Liam.

The path was the same trail Louis followed just this morning, this time an eerie spirit was carrying the air, the flush of ease slipping in the cracks of torn ground.

The thrumming of the river was consumed by static when Mr. Bingley's scream was spat aloud again.

_"Fuck him! Look under his pillow... look!"_

Mud fights against the polish of Louis' slippers, falling when the Omega rushes uphill; his eyes widening when he hears the black melody of bloody gargling from the lungs inside the cabin.

The door was ajar with the last bit of sunlight pouring in from the stripped windows, a trail of blood fresh on the hinges of the brick walls.

Even from afar, Louis could see a crowd of men on their feet, their backs pressed against the glass as they linger around the corners of the space, their own eyes in panic.

Louis doesn't realize his hand over his own lips until he finds himself hovering over the entrance of the dorm; the lump in his throat falling into his chest when the bitter screams now spill over the floor.

Alfred Bingley, the former General, laid on the wooden ground of his cabin with sweat dampening his back in one long streak, the smell of urine in the air as he lets out his fourth scream of the morning.

His eyes were wide and shell-shocked. Embossed, red lines trailed down his neck as he claws at his own neck as a man possessed.

Through the slit of the door, Louis could see Thomas hold Alfred's head down to his lap, his own fingers shaking as he wraps himself around the trembling Alpha's body; shutting his eyelids tightly as he feels waves of hysteria pounding against Alfred's heart.

"Mr. Bingley," Thomas announced over the bewailings, resting a hand to cradle the man's scalp, his other against his chest as he feels the heartbeat running faster than a rabbit escaping from a wolf, "please, be still. Allow us to give your medication."

Then, underneath the dim candlelight of the room, showed a sheen of sweat that blanketed Bingley's torso; the palms of his hand bloodied and his knuckles bruised.

Louis' hand withdraws from the door, flinching from the flash of a familiar sight.

"Would you like me to come with you?" Liam's voice causes the boy to jump slightly as he forgot that the man was still by his side.

He seemed just as breathless and alarmed as the Omega, his tan skin going paler by the minute.

The other men in the cabin were turned face down in their beds, either asleep or acting to be. The shouts of Alfred bounced off the walls of the room, echoing in shrieks that could be bottled by the pint.

Dust flies like snow as Alfred thrashed under Thomas' hold, his face wet from tears and cheeks hot from the way he slapped his flesh raw. "Ring Sarah, tell her I need to get on the three o'clock train, these fuckin' bastards are trying to kill me."

"Hold him still, Thomas." One of the Alphas next to Mr. Trainor could only mutter, a small bottle of pills rattling in the as Alfred flailed further, kicking at his wrists.

That was when Louis felt his legs push forward, the door opened abruptly as he shoves his body through the crowd of huddled men before he stands over Thomas breathlessly.

"Mr. Trainor," the Omega put a hand on his shoulder, startled when he sees the man's worn down eyes gawk back at him; both anger and surprise flushing in his face at Louis' appearance in the cabin.

Alfred's gaze immediately shifted towards the Omega, his eyes shooting up as if Louis had thrown cold water all over his head.

Louis feels his stare holding, and the boy almost looks back if it weren't for his nails he was digging into the palm of his hand to prevent that from happening.

The boy swallows, "Thomas, you can't hold his arm tightly, you are inducing his instincts-"

But before Louis could finish, Thomas stands at once, wrapping an arm around the Omega's shoulders and guides the boy back near the door swiftly; urgency and anger clear in his step.

"This is no sight for you to see, boy. No sight at all. I suggest you take back to your chores." He mumbles lowly, using the back of his hand to wipe the sweat off of his forehead.

Louis was taken slightly aback by the anger in the man's voice. He had never seen Thomas's face like this. There were lines underneath his eyes. Grey hair shined a sterling silver through his dark hair. He was worn down, drained; his voice was firm but desperate for compliance.

Louis feels his heart strain as he tries to take those weaknesses into his own advantage. He stands up taller, ignoring the glares of the Alpha's that surrounded him.

His eyes then flicker to Alfred for the split of the second to only find that the Alpha was already watching him, his chest heaving violently.

"Sir, I have seen this before," Louis speaks to Thomas, but his eyes still on the back of Mr. Bingley's head, "If you continue to hold his body down he will pass out due to constraint. He needs space."

Thomas crosses his arms, his veins embossed like a letter's wax seal as he shakes his head, looking at his feet. His nose is flared and jaw tightened.

"Escort him out of here," Thomas snaps to one of the Alpha men that watched from the corner of the cabin without sparing Louis a look.

Hurt flashes over Louis' features, he could feel his throat burning at the way Thomas waved him off. But before he could argue, he feels a foreign hand on his back, tugging lightly at his arm towards the exit; Liam shakes his head at him, with both sorrow and order.

Louis pulls back harshly, his whole body daring to cower at the feel.

He grabs the hand off of him, pushing away the faceless Alpha before he turns to Thomas with a vexed expression.

"I am trained for this kind of work," Louis argues, hearing Alfred scratch against the wooden floor. "I was called—"

"I said take him out of here," Thomas barked again, irritated and sweat building up against his neck.

"Sir, if you would just let me _see_ him," Louis pushes more desperately, standing his ground as he feels Thomas's patience running thin like a pulling thread.

The Alpha begins to raise his voice, gaining more stares around the room at the pair. "Louis," he seethes through gritted teeth, "this is no work for you. Leave before you get yourself-"

"Let him pass."

Harry's voice broke through the room in splinters before it did echoes. The men look back at him with their bodies shifting, heads bowed slightly in respect.

Louis doesn't dare turn until he feels the heat of another's body graze his own.

Harry stands near the door with a towel and bucket in hand. He sets them down, the harsh sound matching Alfred's sobs. And when Louis faces him, he is already looking back at the Omega.

They lock eyes just like that for a moment, and it took only a short time for Louis to realize that Harry wasn't glaring coldly at his eyes, but the hand Thomas had on the nape of neck; nearing the first concealed scar on the Omega's back.

That causes Louis to flinch just as he did with Danny, suddenly aware of the glowing touch.

Thomas lets go in concern, but Harry watches knowingly. The Alpha was the first to look away, his sight on Alfred's sobbing body; unreadable.

Harry's scent was foreign without his drink, his eyes sober and skin still raw from the outside winds. Louis almost takes a step back at the sight but is frozen when Harry reaches out a hand, blood on his fingertips.

It takes Louis a moment before he realizes that the hand was meant for him.

"Come here," Harry murmurs, "remain behind me."

Louis watches as Harry leans against the door frame, a cigarette hanging from his mouth and dark beard contrasting his pale skin under the peaks of moonlight.

His head is bobbed down as he throws the cigarette to the drying grass on the perimeter of the cabin, stifling the last ghosts of flame with the soles of his shoe.

Louis looks back at Thomas, but the man was taken aback, giving Harry a glare. But the Alpha doesn't respond to it, he only waits patiently until he feels Louis take his hand.

The Omega's chest drops to his stomach at how warm the pressure was; how their flesh encountered for the first time without it beginning in screams.

Harry moves fast, the space around him blurring and turning. His steps are long, leading the Omega through the crowd of men swiftly and towards Alfred's jolting body.

Louis stays a step back behind Harry, his hand still held within the man's fist. And when Harry sits back on the floor, he takes Louis down with him, the Omega's knee touching the fabric of his shirt.

The Alpha towers over Mr. Bingley, fingers pressing at the previous general's chest. Harry looks over his shoulder, his gaze on Louis.

He moved forward, and then, lowered his head.

"Command me," Harry tells him, voice soft.

His words caused everyone around them to stop and stare, including Louis who blinked at the gesture, lips parting. An Alpha was never to allow an Omega to direct them, nor tilt their head below them. It was something that was forbidden even in privacy, let alone in a room with a hundred pairs of eyes watching.

But Harry waited for Louis' instructions as if the Omega were the only one in the room.

"You must cradle his head, ground him in a cool place. He's feeling overheated and overwhelmed," Louis' voice comes out weak and pathetic as if he were the one being choked.

But Harry nods in understanding, turning back to Mr. Bingley and bringing him closer to the shadows of his bunk. The door was still open, and the Alpha moves into the current of the wind.

Alfred lets out a shaking sigh at the feeling, his dried tears cracking as he opens his mouth. He quivers, letting out a breathless shiver, body stuttering when he tries to gasp.

"It would help if they all would step outside for a moment," Louis whispers suddenly, his hot breath against the crook of Harry's neck.

It causes the Alpha to still for a moment, and Louis almost leans back, feeling as if he crossed a barrier. But Harry then looks at the crowd, "Leave us. Head to the main dining hall in the south wing. Niall will direct you."

"I said they're trying to fucking kill me, you hear that?" Alfred's neck stretched to meet Louis' eyes as he mumbled, his pupils wild and dilated; just like two huckleberries growing from a poisonous vine.

The room was cleared only for two figures left to guard the door.

The Omega swallowed, suffocated by the thick atmosphere and fever that the room carried within its four walls. Louis laid a hand over the sniveling man's stomach, feeling a heartbeat thrum against the tips of his fingers.

"It's going to rain soon, Mr. Bingley, can't you smell the air?" Louis says softly, cupping the Alpha's face with both his hands, "come on now, we can try to smell it together. Mimic me,"

Harry's eyes are watching him again, and when the Omega leans forward, they track the movement.

The boy has the first half of Alfred's body in his lap, and he takes a deep breath, ignoring the fouls smell of the room. Right now he knew that Mr. Bingley didn't see the four walls that enclosed them into this space.

"You smell that? The earth? If you're very still, you may even hear the birds' wings flying west." Louis whispers.

It was a risky plan to try to take Bingley out of his consciousness within the cabin and to the outside world, but it was a risk worth taking when Louis feels Alfred's rapid heartbeat slow as the man shuts his eyes and lets out a small hum, his pulse calming at the Omega's careful words.

He holds Louis tightly around his center. Too tightly as he shakes out another trembling breath. Louis gasps out in pain, trying to remove himself from the hold but fails when Bingley doesn't let go.

Harry's eyes darken as he grabs the man from the nape of his neck, easily tearing away Alfred's body from the Omega's and onto his instead.

Louis is breathless as he feels a sting near his ribs, clutching at his stomach before Alfred grabs a fistful of Harry's shirt so tightly that he tears the fabric.

But just when Louis tries to bear himself towards the man, Harry lifts his hand, stopping the Omega in place.

That's when Louis sees that Harry's teeth were out.

"Yield," Harry bites down on Bingley's shoulder, drawing blood when he breaks the skin, the man below him howling in pain with his flesh slit, "you've put up your fight but now it is over."

Alpha's rarely bit another Alpha without there being a malevolent threat made known. Louis had only seen it once when he was younger, back in the city. The night ended with a man's tongue ripped from his mouth.

"They want to kill me, 'Arry," Alfred wails, blood trailing down to his waist, "they want to put a gun in my mouth."

His hand weakly shakes out for Harry's helplessly, but the Alpha moves away, face dark, the corners of his lips dripping with crimson.

"Now why would I hold the hand of a man who is showing such weakness?" Harry muttered coldly, "If you try to fight, I will have to cut your throat."

A sound escaped Louis' lips, shocked at how easily the words come out of Harry's mouth, grim and truthful.

Harry faces the Omega again, his jaw tightening and head lowered. His eyes rake down Louis' body, stopping at the way the boy clutches his stomach. His nose flares.

Alfred then takes the moment of vacancy to bury his face in the crook of Harry's neck and heave, trying to draw his own teeth but cut off when Harry claps the back of his hair, pulling him back as if he were a feral animal.

Harry brings Bingley's face down to the floor, and Louis jumps at the horrible sound of bones cracking. But the Alpha holds him down before he whispers venomously in his ear.

"If you have me kill you, you'll wake up in hell tomorrow, like all soldiers of the crown will. You will then have the devil take his turn on you," Harry touched the man by the throat, leveling their eyes before saying, "do you want me or the devil, Alfred?"

"You," the man shivers, sweat beginning to pour down the side of his temple before he repeats in a shallow cry, "please, you."

"Then yield."

Finally, all fight flees out of Bingley's body, leaving him pliant like a child's rag doll in Harry's arms.

The Alpha rests his chin on Alfred's shoulder, teeth retracted and hands holding his back into an embrace.

Harry whispers something in Alfred's ear that no one else could hear; silent as the first drop of rain in a forest fire. His hand grabbed the base of the Alpha's back as if he was holding the General from a dead-end cliff, bringing him back to safer ground.

His red lips murmur a prayer.

Louis backs away, watching with wide eyes at the sight. The glow of dust that surrounds them makes the man appear to be a holy man, his voice coming out in a tone the Omega has never heard before. Innocent. Pure.

_"You will hear of wars and rumors of wars, but see to it that you are not alarmed. Such things must happen, but the end is still to come."_

Harry's hands cradle the man just as Louis commanded him to, placing pressure on the crown of his head as a mother would do for her newborn. It was tender, no malicious force in between the gaps of his fingers.

"Call Sarah in the morning, call her," was all Alfred could say back religiously, tired eyes on Louis, "I'll come home after the rain stops. Call her, eh?"

"Yes, I will," Louis' voice feels raw and strange in his throat as thought he were the one screaming. Perhaps he was.

Harry wraps his arm around Bingley's shoulders, supporting the tired man as he nods to the bottle of pills that Thomas has left on the floor.

"Bring me his medication," he speaks to Louis, this time without looking at him.

Louis follows the order, twisting open the cap and taking out one capsule, the pill feeing like a bullet in his hand.

Alfred has his lips pursed when Louis holds it up to his face, refusing it like a child.

"Open your mouth for the boy," Harry says in the soldier's ear, "he came all this way for you."

Louis flickers his attention at the words, biting his own tongue.

With a cautious stare, he places a white pill between Alfred's lips and a glass of water after. Mr. Bingley swallows it down thickly, the muscles in his throat sounding harsh, yet the man was calmer than he had been all night.

"In the morning, don't forget." Bingley was now half asleep, the whites of his eyes only peaking for a second more before disappearing behind his veiny eyelids.

"In the morning... I won't." Louis whispers his confirmation.

Harry lowers Alfred's unconscious body to the floor, standing on his feet. A part of Louis expects his hand to be extended again, reaching for the Omega. But instead, Harry ignored the boy, whistling to Thomas and Danny to move the man.

Louis wobbles to his feet, his knees burned and reddened with how he knelt against the harsh wooden floorboards. It was Danny who steadied him by the elbow, sparing him a smile that didn't last long.

They cower over his huddled body, hands wrapped around his bare ankles and wrists until they lift Alfred back onto his bed. The soaked sheets lay soiled on the floor, the wrinkles seeming as if there was still a creature inside.

"Have Bingley's belongings in order before sundown," Harry tells Thomas, his back to Louis. "I'll have the stagecoach ready for town."

Louis' blood goes cold.

"Stagecoach?" The Omega grits his teeth hotly, talking to the back of Harry's head, "Are you dispatching him from Galilee?"

Harry finally turns, his eyes inflamed with red. He stares down at the boy drowsily, his beard damp and hands heavy.

He didn't appear to be angry or even the slightest bit vexed. He doesn't react to Louis indignantly. He just seemed tired.

"Do as I say," he says to the group, but stays watching Louis, "take the remainder of the day to rest. All of you."

Thomas was the only one to nod as Danny studies their exchange with prolonged silence. The tension was no one's fool, and it bit at the woodchippings of the walls before it did their skin.

Harry lingers for only a minute more, directing his gaze down at Alfred's body with an unreadable expression, and Louis could have been imagining the glassiness of his eyes.

And before the Omega could push Harry more, demand for his answer to be clear, the Alpha leaves the cabin without another word; the door shutting harshly behind him.

Louis stares hard at the framework, his lips still slightly open along with his fingers raised as if there was still skin and bone in front of him. He falters, ignoring the pang in his chest.

Not even a second passes by before Thomas immediately takes Louis into a hug after Harry's absence, sighing as he shakes his head. "Did good lad, eh? Should've known you would have."

"Damn right, you should've," Danny observes them attentively, his smile also now relaxed since the door closed, "boy is an enchantress."

Thomas pulls away, tugging at his own lip, eyes wide and serious."I didn't want you to see that any of it," he says, "shit will make you go mad."

He speaks to Louis just like he speaks to Matthew or Arabella, soft and truthful. There was no acidity behind the way the father talked, just a string of worry.

If Louis were to see what happened today another time, he was sure to crack. Even now his skin shuddered at the bent silhouette of Mr. Bingley and how he laid like an old beggar under a sack. He felt drunk with fatigue, the scent of Alpha and blood and panic gnawing at his senses.

"It's alright, sir, I..I'm not upset," He lies to his second Trainor of the day, tongue went sour from the taste. He looks down at Alfred's piss-stained sheets, "I can take those down to the river for you--"

"Don't worry about it," Thomas rushes in to say, his head slightly hanging at the small splatters of red on the linens, "we'll have to throw it away soon... given the orders.."

He pauses, shaking his head, voice lost in thought as he looks towards Mr. Bingley's sleeping body; his breaths finally even. "Danny, take Louis down to the Lodge, will you lad? Take that rest."

"You won't be coming?" The other Alpha questions, meant to be a mutter but Louis caught the faint worry that lined his throat.

"I should look after him," Thomas's stare is on Alfred, melancholic and distant, "just until sundown."

Danny flickers his vision to Bingley and then Thomas, testing the waters before he puts a hand on the father's shoulder, giving it a touch of understanding.

"Alright," he murmurs, bowing his head in respect before saying again, "alright."

Louis mirrors his actions and waits for Danny to pick the sheets by their clean ends, folding them until they reach the size of a child's blanket. He walks out first, Louis following him as they both leave the last two breathing men in Cabin C alone.

The sun had managed to crack through the grey clouds, splintering in a mist off pale yellows. If Louis were still in New York during this time, he would see glow lamps lit alive on the streets, illuminating where the sidewalk split. Voices of little boys and girls with their parents' hats on their heads would giggle and run, soaking in the last bit of warmth the day had to offer.

But there were no glow lamps or laughter. The fields were empty and quiet with the retired breeze running a hand through the bristles of grass. He halts only when he sees Danny studying him from afar.

"What is it?" Louis questions, his voice coming out more frightened and alert than he cared for it too. Did the Alpha hear something the Omega missed? Was Alfred awake?

But Danny stayed tranquil, idling in place.

"Dunno," He shrugged his shoulders back, stretching the muscles of his back easily, "trying to find something in your face, but can't."

Louis frowned, tilting his head imperceptibly, "Tell me what you're trying to find and maybe I can help you out."

Danny takes his words as an invitation to examine him longer, considering all his features before making his conclusion.

"Anger," he finally says, "you got no anger in your face."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"Depends," Danny continues, "anger can be good and bad. But it doesn't explain how you can handle shit like you just did."

The Omega tries to laugh, but it comes out raw and beat down, "You should've searched for hard-headedness then,"

Danny doesn't smile in return, he was lost in thought, a line in between his brows, "Maggie said you and Harry are alike that way,"

Louis pauses, "Which way?"

"Both stubborn." He replied.

The boy stares back at him voicelessly. He digs the small heels of his slippers into the dry dirt, trying to keep himself upright so he doesn't melt into the soil.

"Mr. Styles had bitten him," he says eventually, "Why?"

Danny seems to pick up on his somber curiosity by the way his face faltered, they both knew who 'him' was. Neither of them says anything for a while, they allow the sun to die behind them when the grey clouds returned.

Louis felt as if he crossed a line by the way Danny basks in the silence, sis comfort in it rather than answering the Omega. But the Alpha was quick to extinguish this anxiety.

"Where did Bingley grab you?" He asks softly.

It was a question that matched the man's misdemeanor, frank and eager. But he was cautious, watching his tone as if Louis was going to flee. The Omega exhales, swaying lightly on the balls of his feet.

"By my waist." He answers, still feeling the grip against his ribs.

Danny hummed, loosening the collar of his shirt and pinching the fabric between his two fingers.

"If Harry hadn't bitten him, you would've been choked and smothered by his grasp," he finally retorts, "It was to take Alfred out of his state, ground him. Just like you said to."

Louis recoils, as if slapped. His eyebrows knit together before he crosses his arms over his chest, holding himself together. Harry had bitten Alfred to protect him. The thought makes his stomach twist. The blood on his lips was for the Omega.

"I wouldn't have asked that of him if I knew—" Louis tries to argue, but Danny interrupted him with a nod.

"I know," The Alpha pledged, yet he shook his head, "but it had to be done."

Louis looks away resentfully, the tips of his ears burn. "What will happen to Mr. Bingley now?" He mumbles.

"He'll have to be discharged to a hospital back in town, you heard Styles."

"He will be removed from Galilee even if he nearly died from his fit?" Louis exhaled bitterly.

"Harry says hospitals are a place to die," Danny justified, "Galilee is a place to learn to survive."

Louis thinks back to Mr. Bingley's face. It was hard to imagine him as a general, an able-bodied man who carried soldiers on his back. It was hard to imagine him without the gurgling cries, the blue veins that jumped from his neck trying to escape his flesh.

And now there will be wires attached to his arms, his nose, and stomach. They will pump his body alive when need be, tying the very feet that trudged through the battlefield.

When he'll scream he will be put to sleep, having nothing to hold onto except the blank pillows of 1922. Forcing him to decay, to fade away into just another golden medal of bravery.

"Give me the trousers," Louis held out his hand impulsively, refusing to let Danny see the shine of his optics, "I'll have them washed by noon before you all go. I'll take the sheets too."

His hand was extended for a while, empty and frigidly waiting, but soon was occupied carefully by the soiled linens, a body taking a step back.

The smell is rotten and stomach-turning, something that would have made him dizzy and nauseated. But now all he could do was look down and stare at Alfred's ramifications.

"Louis?" Danny stopped him before he could turn towards the river.

the Omega turned, swallowing, "Yes?"

"You did well by us today, really," he bows his head, "We're all glad to have you."

It wasn't something that Louis expected, and he made it known by standing there quiet stricken, not responding to the motion.

"Thank you," was all he could manage, distrustful of the expression. They didn't need his thanks, and he didn't deserve theirs.

But with that, Danny gives a final nod, giving the boy one more glance before he tracks back to the main house. Leaving the Omega with the final traces of Alfred Bingley in his grasp.

Louis walks back to the river, the image of Harry's bleeding lips plastered in vivid colors.

—

**_IT WAS EIGHT O'CLOCK AND HUMID W_** hen the Alphas and their Betas of Galilee would be leaving for town to transfer the General out of Cabin C.

They mostly only for the Inn's purchases at the end of every month, firewood and ember runs were only needed twice every three months, Maggie had told Louis the first week upon his arrival.

But now, many of the veterans enjoyed making bullets out of melted metals, old silver coins, and cross necklaces, so it became more common that the only two automobiles were gone from the front of the lodge.

The trips calmed their nerves and made them feel in familiar territory; home.

Louis' fingers were pruned from the hour it took to wash the sheetings, and he hadn't realized that there was a swipe of mud that crossed his cheek until Maggie had told him when he returned to the main house. Louis leaves the spot be, his exhaustion creeping up to him.

Maggie spread a thin slab of goat butter on a slice of rye bread, using it as the glue for the chunks of smoked pork and cheese before enclosing it with another bread slice.

She makes six more of these sandwiches, repeating all steps in order like a Catholic prayer. Bread. Butter. Pork. Cheese. Bread. Not a beat missed; wrapping them all in waxy cellophane as one would for a child's Christmas Day presents.

She lays them in a picnic basket, placing it aside on the kitchen counter and looks at Louis with a weary smile.

"Thomas can't stand the food they sell in town," she explains herself, "they eat too much fish there, you know that? Even the soil there smells like flounder and salmon. This way they'll all have something to enjoy when they return."

"He's lucky for you then," Louis comments, an eyebrow raised, "my father lived on street meat, kebabs and burgers, my mother was never a good cook."

Maggie lets out a laugh at that, her hand around her dilated stomach as she does so. There were crows feet that are etched into the corner of her eyes, but they seemed to suit her beauty.

She leads Louis down the hall into her room after they put back the sandwich ingredients into their proper places in the pantry silently, the sounds of their footsteps were the only thing to be heard in the land.

The Trainor's room was wide and warm, matching their personalities. The silk, orange curtains were drawn back in a royal kind of manner, something that Louis would have seen in a page of a storybook.

From the windows, Louis saw his prediction of rain become true; thin, heavy droplets coming down in ones, tens, and then hundreds. There was a deep rumble of thunder that came from behind the hills, a ruthless storm only miles away.

A sheer net drapes over the frame of their bed made to guard the area against flies or bad omens. It was a superstitious thing to own, and Louis hasn't seen one in so long; his fingers trailing down the textile softly.

Arabella and Matthew, still soundly asleep, were sure to be rambunctious in just an hour till their slumber ends. But for now, they stretch across the large settee couch in the corner, legs sprawled and hair wild.

But the most alluring aspect of the space was the portrait of Maggie hanging above the dresser.

She was adorned in a green gown, the metallic paint capturing the silk material perfectly as if Louis could reach out and feel the fabric himself, hold it. There were pearls wrapped around her neck and she held onto them with a shy smile, true to her modest nature.

Not a detail was misplaced or forgotten; the curve of her jaw, the pale dusting of hair on her arm. Even her crow's feet were placed perfectly. Louis believed not even a photograph could grasp the sincerity that this painting held.

He looks at her, and she looks back.

In the corner, there was no signature of the artist, only a small date.

**_25 April 1912._ **

"Did it bother you, in the morning? Seeing Harry." The pregnant Omega's voice suddenly came from behind Louis' thoughts, causing him to flinch back greatly.

Maggie sits on the edge of her bed, her hand to her lips as she lets out an apologetic sound, moving to steady Louis but he shakes his head, gesturing for her to stay put.

"No," Louis catches his breath, sitting beside her, careful not to catch himself in the net, "I do work under his name, I couldn't hide forever."

Her face drops, unconvinced by the boy's use of the word 'hiding'.

"I understand if you don't feel comfortable to continue your commitments," she puts a hand over his and squeezes, observing Louis with a gentle turn of her lips, "I still offer you a house position."

It should be now that Louis tells her he can't, that he is set to leave before she even bears her third child. But all he could do was feel the woman's embrace, his mouth set in a pursed line.

"You do not have to feel obligated to give me an answer right this moment," Maggie said after a second passes, "but Thomas told me what you did today. And I know now that we need your courage more than you need us."

"Don't. Please don't say that." Louis weakly replied.

"It is the truth," Maggie presses on, "not many Alpha men would have been in that cabin today. You stayed faithful to your word when you said you were hardworking, passionate, and resolute."

Her repetition of Louis' words when he had first arrived were daggers to his throat, the smile she gave after only twisting the blades. He looked back at the rain, wondering if it was thunder he heard or the rustling of his heart.

"Arabella caught a fly today," Maggie whispers, her gaze still on Louis, "she wanted me to tell you. Said you'll already know what that's about."

He was instantly thankful for the change in topic, a weight lifting from his shoulders. Louis lets out a small sigh, allowing the corners of his mouth to lift.

"Hm," he grinned for a moment, hoping that Maggie doesn't see his relief, "sweet girl."

She does though, of course; catching it like an insect in her bed net.

"What's the matter, Louis?" She asks, reaching out to cup his cheek with her hand, waiting for him to look up at her.

"I'm sorry?" His voice betrays him, sounding as if sandpaper were rubbed at his tongue.

"You're not talkative," She states, eyebrows knitting together, "I was under the impression you'd make very good company."

It took a minute before Louis catches a lightness to her voice. Playful. He could do playful, he could joke lightheartedly to fully mask the jolts of guilt that electrified him.

"Oh, I do," he shrugs, "I used to have my hands whipped in school all the time from talking. But much to my teacher's dismay, that only gave me something more to talk about."

This made Maggie grin with teeth, believing the facade.

"I see," she says, "Do you miss it, back home?"

He tries to tell her the truth, or everything close to it. It makes him feel almost as if they were just two breathing bodies sharing a conversation, not a moment's panic.

"Parts of it." Louis returns, pinching the skin on the back of his nape, "I believe my brain is wired very strangely. I can't remember the smells anymore, even though I know that is what I yearn for the most."

"I can imagine, I've seen photographs," Maggie removes her touch, reclining back onto the huddle of pillows behind her, "New York seems very busy."

"It is," Louis confirms, suddenly feeling his smile growing genuine, "there was always some form of shouting. Mothers scolding at their children, drunk men crying, newspaper boys yelling headlines as you pass them by."

He chuckles to himself at the way the images come reflecting back, ones that were tender and loving. Abruptly he could smell the soot of factories and shoe polish again, coffee grounds on two-year-old newspapers, the exhaust of gasoline.

He didn't recognize how much he had been smiling until Maggie spoke again, her expression light but wandering.

"Do you like it here, Louis? At Galilee?" She inquires gently.

"It's been good to me," _As close to the truth._

"But it isn't home. Not like New York was."

Louis doesn't answer. But it was a silent agreement. He was felt embarrassed and spotlighted, found out.

But Maggie's face doesn't go vexed, she instead laughs at the way Louis shied from the interrogation. "It's alright, I don't mind. I'd feel the same if I were you."

Yet Louis didn't say anything for a while. Every second that passes by feels like pulling teeth. He swallowed dryly.

"Do you ever get used to it," Louis murmured, "the way the men scream at night?"

The atmosphere shifts and it is the boy's own doing this time. He needs to know, to figure out if it was not only his mind that lays shaken. Time drags out.

"I do," Maggie finally speaks. She looks at Louis with a sad smile, "but that is not the answer you wanted."

"I wanted you to say no," Louis admits shamelessly. His teeth were slightly gritted.

Maggie smooths out the faint lines that appear on the boy's forehead, sighing comfortably.

"It scares me more when they are quiet. Silence has no promise of life, of breath," the woman explains in a hush, giving her sleeping children a maternal glance, "that's why their snores comfort me."

A streak of lightning silently staggers beyond the fields, rain sharply pattering on the roof of the lodge. But all Louis feels are the springs of grief knocking on his heart.

_Silence has no promise of life._

"What do you think it's gender will be?" He whispers, catching his eyes on Maggie's stomach.

Not even a beat passes by, "A girl."

"You sound so sure." Louis breathlessly remarks.

"I am sure," Maggie wore her usual dreamy expression, fingertips caressing over the velvety skin of her belly, "the day I discovered I was with child, Thomas and I drove to town, a tradition we have with all of our pregnancies. There we talked to an old Romani friend of mine who reads tea leaves. She told us the sex of Ara and Matthew correctly."

"And have you named the baby yet?"

"Goodness no, I am poor at naming my children, I got 'Arabella' and 'Matthew' from the back of a milk carton. I lied to Thomas and said that they were my grandparents' names."

They looked at each other for a second before bursting in fits of laughter, their hands over their mouths as they delightfully allowed humor to occupy their time. Maggie shook her head, holding her hands up guiltily, but her expression remaining shameless.

Louis took that as an opportunity to study the shape of her smiling mouth, looking back at the painting to compare their appearances. The picture mirrored the top of her lip's curve but kept the smile hollow, spineless and up for interpretation.

There was something missing but not something that disrupted the undeniable charm. The portrait yearned for something that Maggie didn't.

"Harry did that painting, you know."

If Louis turned around any quicker, he would have fallen off the bed.

He was anticipating there to be a jaunty beam in Maggie's face as if she had just told a joke, but she stared at the art with the same sincerity Louis had.

Louis swallows, "He did?"

"Yes," She nodded, "the damn bastard made me hold that pose for four hours just to finish the bottom half. If I were any other Omega I'd be offended by how much time it took to figure out my legs."

Disbelief pressed on Louis' shoulders, pushing him to let out unspoken praise.

"I didn't know he painted."

It was a funny thing to say, Louis actualized after he spoke. He didn't know much of anything about Mr. Styles.

"He was preparing to move to Italy before the war began to work with his uncle who did sculptures," Maggie said, her sound lost and more delicate now, "he was an old fashioned spirit, just like his mother was, able to capture light with just two colors."

Louis stared hard at the two points of illuminance on the painting's skin. It was as though there was someone holding candlelight against the canvas, sparking it alive.

"What is the portrait's name?" He asks quietly.

"Gioia al Mondo," Maggie recites in Italian, her accent coming out like radio static. Laughing at the butchering of it all, she translates, "Joy to the World. It was a wedding present after Thomas and I married."

Louis tries to imagine Harry holding a brush as he holds his bottle, with such a tight grip, afraid that someone might come from behind and steal it away. His drunk eyes careful, narrowed and in concentration. Splatters of red across his chest belonging to a tube instead of a body.

"There's always a certain loneliness that appears in his art. You can see it in the way he draws the lips," She closes an eye and lifts her thumb in the air, putting it over the painted mouth, "it's isolated as if she is asking you to speak to her tenderly."

That's when Louis realizes Harry's hands. The Alpha has a painter's hands. Even the bruises on his wrists look as if there were made of oil pastels and locked in place with resin. It was as if Harry made them that way purposefully; the thought makes Louis' stomach churn.

"What was he like, before the war?" Louis thought aloud, unable to hide the anguish that carried his tone. He needed to know, to understand who the man that painted was.

"Quiet but content," Maggie answers, her description wrapping itself tightly around Louis' ribs, "He had a way to attract a crowd without saying a word."

Louis trusts that part. It's in the way they all seem to respect the Alpha. The small decline in their heads, the way they divert their gaze as he takes a drink. He's isolated, but it's as if he's asking to be talked to tenderly.

"He doesn't paint anymore." It wasn't a question when the words leave Louis' mouth. They both knew the answer. Maggie is the one to say it aloud.

"No," she confirmed gently, her eyes finally leaving the canvas, "the steadiness of his hand... it faltered through the years. He trembles."

Louis' eyes were hardened, trained on the back of Maggie's head, watching the way the grey haze of the sky casts a pale light on her brown locks.

"I... I don't want you to think of him as a bad man," she sighs, "When he returned, he returned changed. I don't know where his mind went..."

Louis stares at her admission with a heavy heart, feeling pacified as he sees the painting now reflect back at her in all of its truth. The moon pierced through the cracks of her hair and lavender took over the smell of the room.

He puts a hand on her knee, "One of Jupiter's moons, I'll say." Louis hums softly, trying to break a grin out of the pregnant Omega once again.

"Yes, that sounds about right." Maggie's melancholy fell down like sandcastles to the high tides, crumbling.

"Danny tells me you think Mr. Styles and I are alike,"

The woman lets out a short snort, her shoulders shrugging as she does so. The smile is now wide on her face, she runs a hand through the creases of her forehead before giving another jested huff, "I hope you took no mind in me saying so," she glances, "It's the way you both frown, I believe."

Before Louis had a chance to respond, Maggie released a sharp gasp and jumped up from her spot on the bed. It was so abrupt that Louis had no chance to react before she grabbed his hand with a quick jerk.

Without another word she pressed his palm securely against the large mound of her stomach, smiling dearly at his wide-eyed expression.

"Wait," she whispered, as if the fetus could hear her waiting, "it will kick again, I am sure of it."

He stared at her skin, waiting patiently as his mercies were slightly weakened by the scare. Bewilderment soon left his body when Maggie stared down at him with excited eyes, the flashes of pain melting away piece by piece.

"She is usually loud in the evenings," she promises, "I believe that she wants to talk so badly."

"I can understand with her frustration," Louis agrees breathlessly, his hand no longer shaking against Maggie's skin, "I can assure you, growing up here, she'll have grand stories to tell."

And then, as if by command, she kicked. Maggie gives a loud cheer and Louis a wide-eyed gasp of laughter. Their happiness was so deafening that it caused Arabella and Matthew to lazily lift their heads, pillow creases etched in their cheeks.

But Louis was still breathless, feeling the life in Maggie animate and react. The warmth of the kick invites itself into his chest, and blooms.

"Joy," Louis mumbles before he can recognize his own voice, "you should name her Joy."

Maggie is quiet, her hand still holding the boy's in place. But it isn't long before she takes it from her stomach and to her lips instead, kissing the Omega's knuckles.

"That is a fine name," she smiles, "a fine name indeed."

—

**_WHEN THE MEN RETURNED_** , the rain had come down to a whisper. Many had returned to their own rooms to sleep for the first time that day, dimming their lights and locking their doors.

Louis was already in his room, a book in his hand as he balances himself on the Turkish wicker chair, his bed occupied by a jumping Matthew and Arabella.

He hid his suitcases in the back of the closet, planning to put another in order when the children began to feel tired again. But their energy was high, skin glowing as they leaped on the Omega's mattress with excited, toothy grins.

"And then the fly tried to _bite_ me, Lou!" Arabella exclaims, continuing to tell her story of her first fly catch.

"That is because your are not supposed to tuck it into your pocket, precious." Louis tries to reason, but is interrupted by a jealous Matthew.

"You never taught _me_ how to catch one," he frowns, halting his jumping.

"That is because I thought you were already an expert," Louis quirks a brow, "you offered to make me fly stew one morning, don't you remember?"

"Oh."

And before Arabella could continue her epic tale, there was a knock, Thomas appearing with a bitten sandwich in hand.

"I believe it is time for you two to do some school work," he looks at his children with a simper, giving Louis a nod of acknowledgment between chews.

He looked more at peace, different from his weary disposition that was shown this morning; hair freshly combed and washed, shirt pressed. Louis wondered if it were true or an act for the sake of his kids.

"Papa, I want to _stay_ ," Matthew whines back, Ara nodding her head quickly in agreement.

"Alright then, I suppose I will give all your chocolates I bought from town to your mama then, a pity." The man states nonchalantly, smirking at their gasping reactions.

"No!" Abigail huffed, tugging at her father's pant leg without looking away from Louis. Her eyes were bright and starry, mimicking Matthew's.

"Then hurry down, I can hear her already opening the wrappers—"

The two run and slip all the way down the hall as they pass through underneath Thomas's arm, ignoring his calls for being careful and slowing down.

He lets out an exasperated exhale, rubbing the back of his neck before he turns back to Louis.

"How do you handle them?"

"I don't, I provoke them." Louis teases, putting his book down to open his door completely, inviting Thomas in.

But the Alpha doesn't move, his body still on the edge of the entrance. He rocked his feet slightly, tapping lightly at the chipping paint of the door frame. Louis furrows his brows, but was met by a troubled glance.

"Harry's asking for you." Thomas finally says, "he's waiting in the main hall."

Louis feels his blood go cold.

"Thomas... is it another-"

"No, nothing like that," the father was quick to say, shaking his head, "he just wants to see you."

Louis didn't know whether or not to feel or relieved at that. A new anxiety set over him.

"Did he say what for?"

"No, not a word."

Both of them don't move a muscle.

"I could tell him you were just preparing for bed, if you wish." Thomas offers, sounding just like his mate; crafty and caring.

Louis sighs, shaking his head with the corner of his lip lifting weakly as he walks out the glow of his room's dim lamplight, shutting the door behind him until it made an apparent click.

"I'll go," he says, "you should return to your room as well, get some proper sleep."

Thomas rubs his eyes with a wane smile, his facade cracked,

"You'll be alright heading down on your own?"

"I think I can manage a few stairs," Louis promises, causing the older man to snort, "go, before you collapse on the floor. I haven't picked a body up in ages."

Thomas holds his hands up in surrender, giving the Omega a nod as he tracks back towards the same direction his children went, slower and more careful.

It wasn't until he hears the man's steps stop that Louis closes his eyes, letting out a breath that he wasn't even aware he was holding within himself. His back was against the cold wood, the door hinge digging into his skin yet he could only feel a deep warmth that stirred in his chest.

The walk downstairs is slow and painful, and he almost turns if it wasn't for the hums of the floorboards that announced his presence, his liveliness. He kept walking, steps steady and quiet until they were completely muffled by the lace of the carpet.

Harry sat beside the bay window, the moonlight pouring from the glass onto his naked back, like a blank canvas aching for colors of the morning. Louis could make out the pitch of the Alpha's shoulders, wide and strong.

His feet were bare and pushed below him, hanging slightly but touching the ground. A large bowl of water sits in the corner of the cushion, reflecting white rays.

"Thomas said you needed me, sir?"

The Alpha didn't turn around to look at the Omega, instead, he motions to the vacant space beside his body. Louis takes it.

"Do you smoke, Mr. Tomlinson?" The Alpha inquiries, still staring out the window.

Louis' eyes follow the phantoms of smoke that escape Harry's lips as he speaks, swallowing slightly before he shakes his head. "I haven't in years."

Then, for the first time since Louis had entered the hall, Harry turns to meet their eyes.

The Alpha reaches behind his ear, a fresh cigarette tucked behind. It's faded paper met with respect to the beating glow of moonlight, tobacco compacted tightly within.

It seemed like a holy object in Harry's hold, some sort of prayer bead that a pastor would wear around his neck as he gave a sermon.

Harry holds it out between two fingers underneath Louis' lips, eyes not leaving the Omega's.

"Then have another," He murmurs silently, "to celebrate."

Louis gazes at the man, jaw tightened and eyebrows knitting together before his eyes flutter down to the cigarette. He swallows, reaching out to take the stick in his grasp.

"Are you meant to say something, Mr. Styles?" Louis mumbles, lips wrapping around the unlit cigarette.

Harry flickers his lighter, the flame lets out a hazy glow. The room felt warmer.

"Come here," he mutters, gazing at the frame of Louis' lips.

And the Omega does. Almost without any doubt in his bones, Louis leans in and the glow of the flame seems to give him a halo.

Their shoulders touch as the Alpha lights his cigarette, his hand cupping over the quivering orange flame. The tear-dropped fire danced and sizzles on the paper-thin end.

The Omega inhaled the smoke, coughing slightly at the strength of the exhaust. His nose burns at the familiar scent, letting go of the haze in delicate ribbons.

He gives the cigarette to Harry, observing the Alpha take it in his lips; swallowing in the nicotine easily as if it were water itself.

"Now tell me," Harry mumbles through the inhaling of tobacco, the whites of his eyes slightly red, "do you drink?"

There was a flask resting on the counter, and Louis suddenly recognized the sharp smell of the closed space; pungent and overbearing. He shook his head.

"Not whiskey."

Still, the Alpha lifts the bottle from its place on the wooden stool, a damp ring that was left behind soaked into the cracks. In a small glass, Harry pours the dark liquid in until the sound of the streams were muffled.

Slowly, he brings the glass up to his reddened lips and takes a swig without looking away from the Omega.

He then holds the bottle under Louis' lips,

"You will today," he says. And then in a softer voice, he whispers, "Take it. No one is watching."

_You're watching_ , Louis dares to think but was not bold enough to say. Harry's eyes meant less than the others. They weren't kind but sharp and shielded, not warm but cold and reserved. But they were free from judgment.

It was as if Louis were just watching himself.

Slowly, he complies. The alcohol burning all the way down his throat, leaving its mark.

"Is this a plan of yours, sir? To bring me into bad habits?" Louis huffs a distant laugh, already feeling the strong liquor go through his bones, the tip of the bottle smelling like Mr. Styles.

Harry's eyes don't leave Louis's face, watching how the boy's lips were now wet with whiskey; skin ablaze from the smoke and his shoulders relaxed.

The Alpha doesn't answer, instead, he leaves his gaze be.

"What did Maggie name the baby?" Harry asks, causing Louis' tipsy smile to bloom further.

"Joy." The Omega answers simply.

"Joy," Harry repeats, the name coming out like molasses through his voice, throat bobbing as smoke leaves his lips, "that was her pick?"

The Omega briefly laughed at that, a sweet noise that escaped through a distant huff.

"No," Louis shook his head, his knees coming in against his chest as he hugs his legs, "it was mine, I suppose. It suits her."

Harry lets his cigarette hang, hands falling to the back of his neck, stroking the muscle as he says, "A girl then."

Louis nods, unable to find himself saying anything more. He looks down at Harry's hands instead, mentally counting all the veins he could see. All the vessels that carried the Alpha's blood, having him breathe, drink, and smoke.

It was a silent, intimate observation to make; and Harry allowed him to do so.

The Alpha doesn't need to look back at him before he mutters, "Murphy tells me you plan to take your leave before Easter."

Louis stills; caught.

He should've known that Mr. Murphy would inform Mr. Styles first with the way the man sounded so hesitant over the telephone.

The Omega doesn't answer immediately, allowing a harsh gust of wind rattle the glass of the windows before he swallows dryly.

"Yes," Louis confirms after a moment, following quickly with, "I was planning to give Thomas a notice, but I didn't get the chance to just yet."

Louis expects a bitter scoff coming through the Alpha's lips at that, then a triumphant smile, followed by a tone of indifference.

But instead, Harry nods, takes another drag of his cigarette and stands. The tobacco shaving falls below his feet, the pungent aroma getting into Louis' hair.

The Alpha then reaches out his hand, and it takes the Omega a moment to realize that it was meant for him. Louis takes it with a perplexed gaze, facing Harry's chest as he lifts himself up.

"I need to request something from you," The Alpha says, looking down with an unreadable expression, "you are my help, after all. For a few days more."

Louis is quiet, his eyes searching through the precious soldier's face, finding nothing.

"A few days more," Louis repeats as if it were a testimony.

He misses the way Harry's face falters slightly.

The Alpha then takes a hand in his pocket, his cigarette hanging unapologetically between his lips. Louis was sure that if he leaned in only an inch more, the ash would burn his skin.

But his thoughts were distributed when Harry retracts his hand from the hollow of his trousers; a flash of silver was held within his fist.

"Here." Harry hands him a blade, the edge straight but still cuts the air around it.

Louis feels the cold sheet of metal in his hand grow heavy in the palm of his hand.

"What do you wish for me to do with this, Mr. Styles?"

Harry lets out a cut sigh before reaching out to take ahold of Louis' dainty wrist, bringing the Omega closer to his body until their chests touched.

Louis widened his eyes as he saw the Alpha up so close. A blanket of dark hair covered the bottom half of his face, but peaks of flesh still showed; like a hazy summer light underneath the cracks of leaves on trees

Harry holds the Omega's hand up to his cheek, then, keeping the blade steady in Louis' slightly shaking hand. He reaches up to his skin and traces the scruff outline.

"Open your hand, come close," Harry murmured as the Omega delicately stroked the area below his jawline. "Good."

If Louis had been applying any pressure, the blade could have punctured the Alpha's throat. It was sharp enough to stab through a slab of pork, it's pointed tip teasing the edges of Harry's beard as if it were a game.

"Here," Harry holds Louis' fist, pointing the razor towards one side of his jaw. Then, he glides to the left, trailing down. "And here. Just drag the blade and follow the curve. Can you do that for me, Mr. Tomlinson?"

The Omega swallows, pulling slightly away from Harry's skin until he reaches a safe distance. Hary watches the movement, the reflection of the knife striking his eyes with a silver lining.

"You want me to be drunk to shave you, sir?" Louis questions, the flesh below his skin feeling mellow; humming almost.

"The drunker a creature is, the more careful he is," Harry says through his lips, looking down at Louis with heavy eyes, "can you fulfill my request?"

"Yes," the Omega swallowed tightly, pink blooming over his cheeks, vision going slightly blurry when he blinked over the haze of the milky moon. His lips slightly parted. "I can."

Harry studies over the boy's face giving the slightly wet lips one more glance before he closed his eyes and sat down into the cushion of this chair, his cigarette now in hand.

"If you're planning to kill me, make sure you get the vein," Harry says as he opens one eye, one lip turning up at the boy.

Louis considers before saying back,

"Noted, sir."

His eyes were closed, fingers relaxed against the wooden handles of the chair. Under the moonlight, shadows cast over the bridge of his nose, a sweep of silver and blue stretches across the upper structure of his face.

Louis had never seen the Alpha look this unguarded, yet there was still something so cold about the way his flesh sat. The deep scratches and scars, mocking the sharp blade the Omega was holding.

Louis swallowed slightly as he drags the shaving cream against Harry's beard, his fingertips touching at the coils of hair. The white of the cream set them standing at their grain, laying gently against the Alpha's pale skin.

Louis then began to gently scrape at Harry's skin, the thin thread of silence torn only when the Omega rinses the razor in the small bowl of water, a cloud of shaving foam making the liquid a milky color.

The two of them were in absolute silence as Louis studied the pale skin that hid beneath Mr. Styles' beard; all the deep lines and healed scars. The boy was so close he could see the stitches alongside the corner of Harry's lip, reminding him of Niall's gunshot wound.

Somehow with his cuts on display, the Alpha seemed more human, more real; Someone who could be hurt and bruised just like any other man could. He wonders if Harry likes it that way, or if he wishes for his mask back.

"Tell me what you are thinking of," The words drawl from Harry's lips slowly but still manage to startle Louis.

The boy does less than flinch but shows his surprise in stopping in place.

"How do you know I am thinking of something?" Louis asks at the same time, quiet and reserved, voice barely there.

"Here you stand, shaving the man with the same wrists that he bruised," Harry speaks, his gaze now shifting towards Louis' hands. "I am sure you have a thought or two."

Even with a blade in his hold, Louis felt as if he were the one in the chair with the knife against his throat.

The Omega looks away, trying to ignore the man and continue to pare alongside the Alpha's jaw but froze when Harry held the blade in place with a calloused thumb.

It was sure to at nick his skin, but Harry showed no sign of the affliction. He simply watches Louis and studies the boy's face indifferently.

Yet Louis still retracts the blade, trying to take a step back but unable to do so when Harry has a touch on his shoulder. It was barely there, almost ghostlike; but it held Louis in place.

Time stood still and Louis marked down from the Alpha's stare, his ears burning at the tips and were sure to be red.

"Am I so foul you can't begin to look at me as I speak to you, Omega?" Harry asks. The question comes out genuine, the honest tone immediately catching Louis off guard.

Instead of avoiding the question, Louis dips the tip of the cloth in the water and reaches for Harry's nicked thumb, collecting the prickle of blood. He meets the Alpha's eyes.

"I'm thinking how there are many kinds of men on God's earth, sir," Louis hums, "but it seems to me that those like you are the easiest to deal with."

That seemed to shut Mr. Styles up for a prolonged minute. Louis grows uneasy at the silence but victorious when Harry doesn't stop him from picking up the razor again, starting at the right side of his face now.

Louis then begins to notice how they share the same air at different paces. Their bodies and faces were so close that when the Alpha breathes out, the Omega breathes in.

By the time Louis reaches the dip of Harry's chin, the man begins to speak again.

"God," Harry muses, a spineless laugh coming from his throat as he takes in a long drag of his cigarette, "is there a God in a place like Galilee?"

"Of course," Louis shrugs only slightly, before tilting his head and softly saying; "God is whatever you make of it. The sun was once God to someone too, you know."

Silence takes over the room again, this time it was loud and eerie.

Louis feels his cheeks heat in embarrassment as if he crossed some sort of line with his words. When Louis dares to see back at Harry, Harry is already watching him with a small smile.

It was barely there, and if Louis hadn't shaved away the thick stubble away it would be hidden. The Omega believes this is the first time he had seen the Alpha this way.

Harry breaks the eye contact first when he closes his again, leaning back in his chair. He takes in a final drag before smothering the cigarette completely. "I don't know if I can agree."

Louis takes the man's position as an invitation to continue with the blade. He grazes down at his throat, noticing how smooth the skin was below Harry's jaw.

"Proud men are always the most skeptic." Louis rebuttals, unable to help himself from doing so. Words graciously slipped out of his mouth, almost anguished to have an answer for everything the previous soldier said.

This time Louis doesn't need to look up to know Harry's gaze is on him again.

He gives another jagged laugh, menacingly sharp around the edges and he holds Louis' hand down, stopping him once more.

"Do you read the Bible, Mr. Tomlinson?"

"When I was younger, every day."

"How young would that be?"

"Seventeen," Louis says small.

The Alpha shows no sign of taunting, in fact, his face appeared more solemn. And if Louis were a fool, he'd think of Mr. Styles as a patient man.

"Then you remember that line," Harry's lips move, "' Without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness of sin'?"

"Hebrews, nine twenty-two." Louis answers without any hesitance, his response was automatic and machine-like; engraved into his mind like his date of birth or surname.

Harry seemed to like the way the Omega responded with the way his mouth rose in a side smile.

"Religion is for fools who cannot do what you and I do, Mr. Tomlinson," the previous soldier said.

"And what is that, sir?" Louis asks.

"Drink whiskey." He replied, his gaze now transfixed on Louis' alcohol-soaked lips.

The Omega blushes, embarrassed; he hadn't realized that he was being mocked. He pulls away and attempts to retract the blade so he could wipe the liquor away with the back of his hand. But Harry stops him, holding the boy's index finger with just a simple touch.

"Leave it," Harry commands faintly, his voice sounding far, "no one else is watching."

"You're watching." this time the words leave Louis' mouth instead of lingering within the frames of his thoughts before he was a chance to swallow them back.

But Harry doesn't turn gaze away. Instead, he leans in until he feels the razor against his skin again.

"I am." Harry agrees, "Is that alright?"

It wasn't a request for permission, even if it was asked in such a manner. Instead, it was a confirmation that the Alpha will be staring as he pleases. That he will be the only one to see Louis in such an unguarded state.

Louis doesn't answer, he feels the whiskey burn against the cracks of his lips. He shaves down Harry's neck to only see the bob of his throat as he speaks again.

"I believe in that line you've recited," Harry accent suddenly felt thicker, "we've shed blood, you and I."

Louis stays silent, continuing his continuous strokes with the razor. Harry takes the absence of a response as an invitation to continue.

"We should be free of sin then," The man goes on, shamelessly watching the way Louis' eyes go glassy, "but do you feel that we're forgiven creatures?"

"No, sir. I don't." The Omega whispers back, the scrape of the blade louder than his voice.

"Neither do I," Harry watches him for a moment, a lion eyeing his prey, "we're similar in that way."

Louis stops at that, looking up.

"I am nothing like you, Mr. Styles." He says flatly.

"Perhaps not," Harry concurs, "but we are both just as cynical as one another, yet it seems I am the only one who sees it."

Louis couldn't help but have a sour laugh escape his mouth. He picks up the damp towel, pressing it against Harry's face until he wipes off the excess foam; revealing the light complexion that hid behind.

"Would you like to know what I think of you as?" The Omega confronts.

"You have already said it. A foul drunk."

"I change my mind," Louis interjects, reaching out to brush away loose locks of hair that fell in front of the frame of the Alpha's face. He tucks them behind Harry's ear as he leans in to say, "you are a frightened man."

Their gaze felt like an unspoken secret, a confession that a priest would hear through a sheer sheet of metal in a booth.

There are only two inches of distance that separates them, but Louis sees the confessional partition that isolates Harry's wandering stare from his. Unreadable, unable to be deciphered.

"And what does that make you, Mr. Tomlinson?" Harry mutters, not with any bite. Genuinely curious.

"I am kind, I have always been kind," Louis retorts simply, pulling slightly back, "why do you so deeply wish I be ashamed of that?"

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," Harry replies with the same ease. The Alpha pauses before he continues, not meeting Louis' eyes as he says, "but the scars on your back tell that there is a falseness behind your intentions."

Louis' eyebrows rise as he now feels his mouth go slowly dry and warm from Harry's remarks. The Omega lets a disbelieving, huffed laugh escape his lips.

"A falseness?" Louis repeats, standing from his place on the floor. Even with Harry sitting upon the chair, the Alpha still slightly towers over the boy. Louis furrows his eyebrows, "My scars are reminders of what it is like to live with unkindness, Mr. Styles. They are the sins I carry for others. Just like your wounds."

The room suddenly feels colder. The mention of their cuts and damages that lay deep in their skin makes Louis feel as if he was wearing no clothes to cover himself with. He was bare, just as he was the night of the dinner.

Yet Harry still wears his mask, his head tilted and chin slightly raised that makes him seem regal; curious.

"Is that our punishment, our scars?" Harry questions in soundlessness, eyes not leaving Louis'.

The Omega smiles with no teeth, bitterly so. He pats at his dark stockings, trying to remove dust that was not there. Louis bites the inside of his cheek before responding with a wilted laugh.

"They surely aren't our blessings." He answers, tightening his grip on his wrist before reaching forward with the damp cloth, wiping away a small patch of dried shaving foam from Harry's skin.

Louis' own actions shocked him more than they did Harry, as the Alpha didn't even flinch; instead, he leans into the feeling and allows the Omega to touch him.

Louis lifts back into place, feeling his legs brush the front of the window sill. The rain had come down to a drizzle, spraying at the glass until the illuminance of the night was blurred in smothered yellows.

Louis clears his throat, his voice surprising himself more so than Mr. Styles as words left his throat and into the empty space of the room.

"And as an Omega, I am trained to be kind. I am trained to be someone who provides men like yourself comfort, a place to rest and get out all of your anger. And with all due respect, you have never had that kind of training in your life. Neither had my husband and look at where his hatred had brought me."

Louis stops speaking suddenly, hearing the bitterness of his words after he speaks them aloud. His ears heat in self-consciousness, throat growing thick. He turns to face the Alpha, hoping that he could swallow back the expressions.

But Louis only finds Mr. Styles quiet. Listening carefully. His face had gone more pliant as he was leaning forward intently.

It is only when Louis stops that Harry's features grow sharper as if he were broken from some sort of trance.

But the Alpha still didn't speak. It was like he was waiting for Louis to continue, wanting him to. And the boy obliges.

"You have been taught to reject this kindness and provide those like me with superiority; with torment and coldness. In fact, you are applauded for it," Louis shakes his head, the release of his tensions tasting foreign on his tongue, "and I _do_ apologize, after all. Not for cursing at you, or for spilling wine on your skin,"

Their eyes meet and lock in place. A passionate blue spark fights with a deserted green island, igniting a wildfire.

Louis finishes with his lips wet, "I apologize for how _tiring_ it must be to be so cold to me because the world has been cold towards you."

White noise washes over the room.

The silence cleans underneath the wooden floorboards, stopping the rain. It wipes across the corners and settles in the cracks of the walls. There is no sound to be heard, there cannot be any sound left. All is said.

Louis' heart pounds against his chest after his proclamation, breathing gone light and swift.

And when Harry doesn't respond, Louis could finally breathe, understanding that this was the final conversation the two would have.

He almost felt relieved, his words still hanging in the room like Christmas lights, burning brighter than the sun. A weight lifted from his shoulders, a piece of the tense atmosphere melting away into a puddle of candle wax.

The boy peers down at his wrists; The bruises seeming so much faded now than they were this morning.

Louis nods to no one but himself, stepping back to turn and make way to his room. But his actions were cut short as he feels fingers wrap around his bicep; not pulling him back, but keeping him from moving any step forward.

Louis goes rigid in place, turning around to find Harry standing and his green eyes gazing down at him with his features soft, looking lost in thought.

And for the first time, Louis sees Mr. Styles. Really sees him.

His pale skin beneath the hair that his complexion hid behind; the sharp jaw that cut from the shadows of his hair. The healed scars on his rugged cheeks fainted pink lines that struck down like lightning.

There was no hair that covered inches of his lips either. Their pale red color was puffy and chapped slightly, creases within the flesh that could be reached out towards and pressed down. They made him resemble a more cordial, more attentive man.

It was as if the boy were meeting a stranger, one with light green eyes with specks of gold; with summery skin and careful language.

"Where do you plan to go when you leave Galilee?" Harry's voice no longer has a strain of iciness, instead, it's empathetic, almost concerned.

Louis is perplexed from the change of tone, leaving him off guarded.

"Back to my hostel, in Manchester." The Omega answers back cautiously, not moving his arm from the Alpha's clutch.

Harry doesn't seem to even notice where his fingers lay, instead he pries further, voice flashing a bit of desperation.

"And that is a choice you made because it is something you wish for?" He mutters, and if Louis were a fool, he'd think the Alpha sounded the slightest bit disappointed.

"Yes." Louis stood taller as he spoke the lie, voice failing when it came out wavered and unsure.

Harry noticed, leaning in until there was only a slight gap that separates their bodies; a crease in between the Alpha's brows became apparent. "When you enter a room with me in it, do not lie and I will not lie to you, can we agree on that?"

Louis' eyes widen slightly at the brief anger that was shown. His jaw tightens, as do his hands when they ball up in fists. "I don't owe you anything, Mr. Styles. I don't owe you the truth of how I feel, especially not since the truth is what earned me these bruises on my wrists. Can we agree on _that_?"

That seemed to strike Harry back, harsher and with greater impact. He transfixed his glance to Louis' faded blue marks, eyes closing after in awareness.

The Alpha nodded and swallowed tightly, but it wasn't until Louis takes a step back that the light on Harry's eyes becomes dim, realization taking over his face. He lets go of the light hold he has the boy's arm and creates distance between them.

Louis ignored the way his skin is cold directly after Harry takes his heat with him.

But the fever quickly returned when Harry spoke again, the words falling out his mouth like a shard of glass.

"I apologize, for being hostile towards you since you had first arrived," Harry said, his voice dropping octaves deeper as if he were trying to speak a foreign language. The Alpha swallows and looks away, "you didn't deserve that. Any of it."

Louis stares back at him, stunned. Of all things that Mr. Styles could say, he wasn't expecting sorrows.

"I don't accept," Louis responds simply but quieter, not bitter but truthful, just as the Alpha has asked him to be.

Harry's expression doesn't change, instead, he nods, as if this was the answer he wanted. "I wouldn't ask that of you," The Alpha looks past Louis' eyes and to the boy's hands instead. "but it is something you should know."

Louis doesn't take it, he doesn't bother to wait a second before Harry is finished speaking before he shakes his head.

"You can't," Louis laughed out forcefully, his bottom lip trembles before he could manage to speak again, "you can't just apologize and expect me to take it as if it were an offering. That's not fair."

Louis bit his cheek to restrain from crying, refusing to do so again in front of Harry. Yet he still feels his eyes go vacant and watches the Alpha's expression harden in return.

But Louis holds up his hand before Mr. Styles could get the chance to talk.

"Please, just don't say anything more," The Omega sighs, eyelids burning when he blinks. He puts down his hand and rubs the back of his neck. "I'm just so awfully tired. And I... I would like to not fight before I take my leave."

But Harry still speaks, "I ask you to stay."

"I said all that I wished to say."

"Mr. Tomlinson, I-"

Louis narrows his eyes, nose flaring, "I would like to go to my room _now_ , Mr. Styles—"

"I want you to stay at Galilee, Louis."

The Omega stops in place, his breath hitching at the usage of his first name. Harry hadn't ever addressed Louis like that, as a person who was anything else but a stranger.

His name sounded almost alien coming from the Alpha, so foreign that Louis didn't even realize what he had just said until Harry reaches out to take his hand.

The skin of Harry's palm was rough but tender, thawing out the freezing from Louis' fingertips. He is gentle with the way he pulls the boy closer, just as he was with Mr. Bingley this afternoon.

Louis feels the tide of Harry's breathing wash over the crown of his head, his own heart going into a burning glow when the Alpha's thumb grazes over his bruises; matching perfectly in place.

Harry's jaw clenched in shame, he lets out a sigh before holding onto the boy's hand.

"Please, stay." He said in a hush so low that it could've been missed if Louis weren't taking shelter underneath his mouth, hearing every word rush through his veins.

Harry's eyes were sincere and searching every inch of Louis' face. His exhales were warm against the Omega's cold cheeks, causing Louis to almost lean into the fervency.

It takes Louis a minute to catch his thoughts before he could breathe out, "No..." he shakes his head, "No, Mr. Styles, that's mean of you. Don't say that to me. Not now."

Harry pulls away hearing the crack in the boy's voice, eyes going dark when he realizes he was the reason that caused it. "Why?" He asks softly, glancing at Louis with his face went dark.

Louis swallowed, looking away.

"You had said it yourself, sir. I can't help a man like you."

The scar alongside Harry's lip deepened as he steps back, dropping Louis' hand delicately. "I," he began but dragged out the last of his words short. "I see."

He sees the Alpha's body stiffen, using the same hand he held Louis' with to pull on a piece of his loose hair with; the curl going down to his bare cheek.

He nods to the Omega, just like he did as he was stepping into the automobile. Short but lasting.

"Good night, Louis." He murmurs.

The Alpha ends it like that. He turns and the translucent shirt he wore caught the moonlight; the muscles of his back tensing as he makes his way towards his hallway, the same hallway Louis had walked through before seeing the photographs of the men Harry had killed.

And if Louis were anyone else, he would leave it like that too.

He would ignore the way Harry's pale skin dulls with dismay. He would ignore the way Harry's scent was no longer lingering on his flesh; the way his own stomach churned at the thought of leaving.

Leaving behind mornings by the river, washing dirty sheets clean, hanging them to dry while Arabella and Matthew ran underneath them; laughing and hiding to wait to scare Louis.

Leaving behind Maggie's worried frown, the peach trees and the fruit flies that gnawed on apple cores. Leaving behind his escape from America, his hiding place.

Galilee wasn't his home, but it was something that made him feel safe; safer than he had been in a long time. The scars on his back burned, reminding him of how much that was true.

Louis glances back at Harry, his feet moving forward before he even had the chance to think further about it.

He reaches out towards the man, his hand wrapping around Harry's arm, tightening his grip.

"I wish to be paid three pence more," Louis says so suddenly that his own voice startles him.

He didn't realize how tightly he was holding onto the Alpha until he let go, his thumbprint white and lingering on into the flesh. For the first time, Louis caught Harry's smell in its entirety. The same way the earth smells after it rained, a fresh soil with rinds of fallen fruit.

Harry looks up so immediately, the man turns around with confusion taking over his features. "Three pence more?"

Louis tugs at his lip, cheeks flushed. He clears his throat.

"Five. Five pence more," He says instead, lifting his shoulders up and dropping them back down, "that is my condition to stay."

Puzzlement melted away from Harry's face, a daze of surprise blooming instead. His back was against the door frame, hand clutching the top of the wooden structure. It was also this moment when Louis realized how much smaller he is compared to the Alpha.

"To stay," Harry parroted, sounding like an echo, but the greens of his eyes growing lighter; as if he was in disbelief.

Louis grew closer, his gaze frigid on where he gripped the man. He has to tear his stare away before he could continue.

"I would also like my measuring spoons returned to me. I won't use them for your medicine, but I still enjoy baking."

Louis extends a hand then like they were two men in business; negotiating. Harry gazes down at the gesture, pausing.

For a moment, Louis felt idiotic. He almost retracts his hand, wanting nothing more but to put it into the pocket of his trousers.

But just as Harry sees the Omega falter, he takes Louis' hand in his. This time, it was different than before. There was no doubt that Louis was being touched, there was no phantom of hesitance or the doubtful delicate strokes over his wrists.

The Alpha's hand completely envelopes over the boy's, sealed firmly, surely. Louis felt each of the harsh wrinkles and callouses, the undeniable ardor that melts into his skin. The smell of the earth grew stronger.

"I will," Harry got out, still holding onto the boy as if Louis were going to disappear if he didn't. "I will make sure of it."

Louis swallows tightly, nodding shortly. He was the first to break away. He still feels Harry's eyes on his face, his body a furnace and expelling warmth; the smell of tobacco radiating from his pink tongue.

"I would hope so." The Omega replies, unsure if his words even left his mouth.

Harry then does something that Louis couldn't have predicted.

He wipes away a spot of mud from the Omega's cheek, his thumb reaching out first and running alongside the boy's skin.

He does it quietly, with no warning or words that needed to be spoken. As if they had been two old friends all their lives.

Louis almost flinches away from the sensation if it wasn't so familiar. His mouth felt slightly heavy, falling a bit open as his breathing stuttered.

"It was brave, all that you did today," Harry finally says, his thumb retreated back to the door frame. Louis couldn't stop himself from looking.

The Omega's eyes sparked as he feels the apples of cheeks blooming a faint shade of red. He lifts a corner of his lips.

"Brave," Louis repeats faintly, "that's a strange word to call it."

Harry's fixation goes delicate, voice lighter than Louis had ever heard before, "What would you call it then?"

"Instinct, integrity," Louis speaks slow, raising a brow as he repeats the same words Harry had said to him when they had made their first encounter.

Harry lifts his head, and if it wasn't too dark in the living space, the Omega would've testified that he had seen dim dust of red residing on the Alpha's cheeks.

"And I hope that you do not expect me to allow your misfortunes to be placed upon me any longer." Louis cleared his throat, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear.

Harry shook his head, a few curls now hovering over his eyes, peaks of green still reflecting through.

"No," he murmurs in a daze, "because that is what will make you predictable."

Louis disregards the way a flurry returns inside his chest, tugging slightly at his throat. He can't help but shy away from the observant way Harry studies him, even with withered mud cracking on the ends of the boy's trousers or the dried rain that frizzes his hair.

"You're not someone to often make apologies, are you sir?" Louis queries pointedly, rocking lightly on his toes.

The back of Harry's head was pressed against the door's chipped paint. He offers a gleam of his irises before managing out, "What gave it away?"

"You haven't offered me another drink of your whiskey," Louis gestures towards the liquor that sits still on the armchair, peering back up at the Alpha. "That is the New York way."

The previous soldier's lips flickered upward, following the boy's demand as he hands him over the flask, but not before saying, "You're not in New York anymore, Louis."

Louis smiles, this time with the whites of his teeth shining through the petals of his lips. He holds up Harry's flask, the silver gleaming like a shooting star.

The Omega screws open the cap with a slight _pop_ , raising it in the air with his eyebrows raised.

"What shall I toast to, sir? Friendship?" Louis questions, taking a sip before the Alpha could even answer.

His face cringes at the taste, scowling slightly at the surprising burn that bites down all the way to the pit of his stomach. His eyes close, missing the way Harry gazes at him softly.

"No," Harry belatedly counters, "Joy."

Louis laughs gently, rubbing at his lips with the back of his hand, returning the bottle.

"To Joy then," Louis says quietly as Harry's lips touch the opening, drinking down the alcohol without even a grimace.

They stay like that for a while, comfortably so. Slightly drunk in a truce, both of their white flags raised in surrender, swaying with no wind.

The strings of hostility and bitterness that tied their bodies were cut and laid on the floor, slipping through the cracks of the floorboards.

There were freckles that went up to Harry's neck, Louis noticed. They connected in a scatter, like a constellation sitting in triangular-shaped, in the color of coffee.

Funny, he thought. How much he liked the way they sat on Harry's skin. They almost suited the Alpha too well.

"Bloody hell," Another voice suddenly emerges from behind Louis, going unrecognized until Niall lets out a sputter, his eyes widened. He's frozen in place, voice going low and serious "Harry, I don't think you've realized, but the squirrel that was living on the bottom half of your face has run away."

Louis softly smiles into his hands, shaking his head at the way Mr. Styles' eyes narrow slightly and the creases in his forehead return. But the softness remains when the sound escapes the Omega's lips.

"I'm well aware," Harry answers, keeping a steady stare at Louis, and Louis contributes a glance back, a shy beam of light gleaming beneath his surface.

But when Niall coughs into his fist, Louis straightens his posture, rubbing his own arm, finally looking away. "I should go now, I believe," he turns to Niall for the first time since the Beta had come into the room, "is Maggie doing alright?"

"Forget that woman, she'd survive God's next flood without an ark. This is something _much_ more enjoyable. Stay here, let me get Danny, bloke must still be awake," He mumbles as his footsteps retreat quickly back into the hallways.

Louis finds that his body feels lighter as he turns, his eyes tired, but the corners of his lips still turned upward.

"Have a good night, Mr. Styles." He bows his head, eyes gleaming when he lifts himself back up.

He felt safer suddenly, hearing the way Harry breathes. Swiftly it felt as if he could hear all of Galilee breathe; the men, the soil, the walls, the ground beneath his own feet. It was promising, it was alive.

"Thank you," Harry replies softly, a sweet burning smoke now apparent in his mouth, "for staying."

Louis shakes his head gently, arms crossed as he shrugs. His smile doesn't leave, "It's what friends do, don't they?"

Harry watches the Louis' words hang in the air just as carefully as he watches the boy go, with his back turned to him with his nightshirt clinging to his spine.

But it wasn't until the Alpha hears the Omega's retreating footsteps softly make their way up the stairs that he looks down at the opening of his flask.

Harry touches the metal rim, where Louis' lips had touched and drunk from, his index finger circling the cool metal feel.

Slowly, Harry leans forward and takes another sip, the liquor now tasting sweet.

The words circle back to his head soberly;

_It's what friends do._

**_—_ **


End file.
